


CLOSER

by Ladywolvesbayne



Series: MEL'S SHORT HALO FICTION [6]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bickering and Banter, F/M, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Found Family, Fred is a natural born flirt, Fred is all in, READ THE WARNINGS ON EACH CHAPTER, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Veta just can't resist, Veta wants to tame herself a Spartan, but boy what a ride, but that's nothing we don't already know about the characters, but they accidentally do, it took this long to get here, it will take longer to get somewhere else, it's hot right from the start not gonna lie, mentions of sexual assault and violence, the Gammas want a Dad, they're more natural when they're not trying to flirt, will get smutty eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27946367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladywolvesbayne/pseuds/Ladywolvesbayne
Summary: Started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?My ability to obsess with half a page of a hurried meeting and two lines of dialogue in some cave on Reach knows no limits, apparently. Initially a oneshot made of different moments, it sprawled a plot. A tale of two strangers that started on opposite sides and ultimately ended up dancing around each other for over eight years. Their hardest battle was just about to start. He doesn't really know any better, she can't let go the ghosts of her past.Together, they can make something work. It's now or never..In this fic we ship, and we ship HARD. Read the tags FIRST!.Reading order to understand this shit:1- Chapters 1 and 2 of this story (set prior to the book Shadows of Reach)2- Story "REUNION" that you can find in my profile (set after Shadows of Reach)3- The rest of this fic (also set after Shadows of Reach)4- It's overall better if you read Shadows of Reach, but not essential..BASED OFF VOLANTIS' STORY "SUGARSWEET" and her LOVELY FRETA ARTWORK (@magellanicclouds on Tumblr, check it out!!)
Relationships: Frederic-104/Veta Lopis
Series: MEL'S SHORT HALO FICTION [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783900
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	1. Five times Fred woke up next to Veta

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Volantis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volantis/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sugarsweet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802192) by [Volantis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volantis/pseuds/Volantis). 



> These are moments related to the concept of ‘five times Fred woke up next to Veta’.  
> It doesn’t matter when, where or how, it’s just a few flashes of situations and thoughts of the characters. The last scene on this chapter and the entirety of chapter two are derivative from the work “Sugarsweet” by author Volantis, posted on this same site. Required reading to understand better the context of said stories and the ones to come (and also do it because it’s an absolutely amazing piece, so just GO READ IT, and fave it, kudo it and comment on it, I command thee).  
> So, here we go. Enjoy!

**#1. SLEEP TIGHT**

His eyes opened right on cue, when the familiar ‘ding’ in his ear signaled the completion of the four-hour timer. Nap was over. Time to relieve Linda from watch duty.

He pinged. Linda replied with a green status light.

Everything was alright. The Jiralhanae hadn’t caught their presence yet.

A much-needed lucky break, indeed.

Frederick-104 took a deep breath, tasting the stale recycled air inside his MJOLNIR.

A flash of lightning lit up the inside of the cave. Weather was still bad outside, it seemed. He picked up the sound of rain violently tapping the leaves and calculated the distance of the storm’s eye by measuring the seconds between a flash of light and the subsequent roll of thunder. Under ten kilometers. Although his armor had state-of-the-art imaging systems, the Spartan waited for the next lightning to take a glimpse of the sleeping shapes of Kelly, near the cave’s entrance, and the Gammas, huddled together with their backs to the walls of the passage. Infrared and thermal just weren’t the same as good old light.

He pinged Kelly. She returned a green status light, of course.

The Lieutenant himself was sitting at the bottom of the shallow cavity, rifle perfectly caught between his hands. His back felt a little stiff, his senses a bit clouded. Fred pulled his weight to a straight sitting position and rolled his shoulders.

A huffing sound to his left, right next to him, jolted his awareness back to one-hundred.

The small shape shifted and turned.

_Ah. Right. The Inspector._

Another blink of blinding light. She was sleeping on her side, dark hair tousled over her pale face, wrapped in a thermal blanket. More like, hugging herself because the blanket was past her waist; Lopis had to leave her jacket behind and according to his HUD’s temperature monitor, it was rather cold. She had to be shivering.

Fred shook his head slightly.

He pushed to a crouching position in absolute silence, ready to get up and get to work.

But before that, he reached out _to pull the blanket over Lopis_.

He wanted to believe that it was a simple gesture of kindness and that he would’ve done the same for any of his siblings. Maybe it was. Maybe it was more than that. Veta had been antsy all night before finally falling asleep. The cave wasn’t that small or tight, and she probably wasn’t worried about that either, but her distress kept Fred on edge more than the Brutes themselves. So, he didn’t just tug on the blanket and dropped it past her shoulder, no. The Spartan took a moment longer to ease the wrinkles on the polystyrene fabric and made sure that her back or feet weren’t uncovered either. All nice and comfortably wrapped. Safe. Sound. Calm.

He waited a few seconds until she stopped shivering.

Another sudden and unusually long burst of light showed him her face, still half-covered by hair but the tension on her lips and jaw had receded. She took a deep breath, shifting in her sleep, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. Fred couldn’t help a minuscule smirk.

He reached out slowly, again, maybe to move the hair out of her face…

Linda pinged him, impatiently. Right, watch duty.

 _‘Sleep tight, Inspector.’_ he thought, unable to contain a grin.

The Lieutenant stood up, silent as a night predator, and climbed to the entrance of the cave. Not even a loose pebble squeaked under the soles of his boots. Walking past Kelly, he met the impassible gaze of her golden faceplate; she swept two fingers across, wishing him good luck. Fred answered in kind and dived deep into the jungle, to look for Linda’s carefully concealed nest.

**#2. MORNING, SUNSHINE**

It felt so good. For a moment there, he forgot about _everything_ , literally.

He forgot about his name and his rank, his duty, his job. His past, present and limited future. Everything. He was just so comfortable, melting on the couch. God, when was the last time he’d slept this well? Ages. A resilient, perhaps impulsive part of him decided that he was going to stay down a little longer. He didn’t care if he didn’t fit well on the couch, even. There were other voices in conflict telling him, in a stern tone, that he had to get up and run through a shit-ton of intel, that it was late, soldier, he had to reach Baby Dragon and get the day’s orders; but he didn’t care. For a second there, Fred didn’t care.

He groaned. And slipped his hand under the pillow, to tuck it better under his head.

The pillow was warm. Slim and maybe a bit hard, but so warm…

_It shifted under his cheek._

He didn’t think it was weird, a pillow that moved by itself. He was sound asleep, after all.

“Morning, sunshine.” her voice said, not devoid of irony.

It felt like fingers running through his hair.

He sighed. A shiver shook his spine and he just melted again, nuzzling the pillow with his nose, catching its scent of standard-issue soap. It had also been ages since the last time he had a dream so nice and peaceful. He liked her voice, it had a husky ring that...

Everything came back, like a bolt of lightning hitting his brain. The mission. The safehouse. The night before. A few rations, some poker. Laughter. Shared stories. The Gammas heading off to sleep, not without protesting. Smiles and more stories, a little more personal this time. The clock ticking into tall hours. Even his name, rank, duty and job, and the fact that he shouldn’t be so cuddly with the Inspector just bounced back into his consciousness. The data overflow made his blue-green eyes snap open immediately, finding the blinding sunlight dead ahead.

The shine hurt. He closed his eyes again and growled.

His head was spinning now, caught in that scent of soap and soft human musk that clouded his environmental perception. It was a smell closely tied to her, natural, private, she didn’t wear fancy perfumes. She wasn’t that kind of person. He would recognize her clean scent under any circumstances, the certainty of that fact was overwhelming.

Of course, it was her. Who else could it be?

“Lopis.” he mumbled, still a bit fuzzy.

“Easy there. Everything is alright.”

“What happened?” he croaked, almost afraid to move.

“You told me to wake you up in four hours.”

Again, that sensation… fingers running through his hair.

Her fingers.

Through his hair.

Fred tensed up like a piano string, locking every muscle in a sharp reflex.

He was _pretty sure_ _he had not been lying down_ on his side when he went to sleep. A series of loud thumps filled his ears and throat, a mixture of embarrassment and fear tainted his cheeks with a soft red. This was a man that punched Elites on the face and now he was shaking inside at the idea of falling asleep with his head on a woman’s lap.

Covering his eyes with one hand, Fred turned up to look.

His blue-green gaze locked with that hazel, amused stare. She was smirking.

“Can I get my leg back, or are you planning on keeping it?” the snark was on point.

“I’m sorry.”

She snickered. He didn’t get up but didn’t hesitate to turn away.

His face was on fire.

“I don’t mind, just started regretting it the moment I needed to go to the bathroom.”

Okay, time to move. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how…”

Fred uncurled his hand from beneath her leg, fast, and pushed up with his right elbow until he was sitting again, at arm’s length from Veta. She shook her head, then stretched her arms up and arched her back until every joint cracked, breaking off the stiffness of a night sleeping in an uncomfortable pose. She groaned in deep satisfaction. Then, the Inspector slumped back on the couch, with a long sigh, still smiling.

“You fell asleep and slipped my way. You just…” Lopis made a gesture with her hand, like a log dropping on her lap. “Like that. And you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have it in me to shake you awake and tell you to move. It seemed like you really needed it.”

Then she laughed, shaking her head again.

There was a… her smile trembled.

No, he wasn’t imagining it this time, _her smile trembled a little_. Her cheeks were flushed.

Fred’s eyes softened. He knew there was something he could (should) say, but…

“Well, you make a nice pillow.” he blurted out.

It was nothing like what he intended to say originally. Nothing like what he should’ve said, this was miles beyond unprofessional and stepping into unknown territory. But it just escaped his mouth before he could restrain his tongue.

The good news was that Veta returned it in kind:

“Thank you. You make a wonderful log yourself, Lieutenant.” she replied and stood up.

He simply watched her go and get lost within the corridors, looking for the bathroom.

**#3. LAZY RIDE**

“FRED!”

Her voice pulled him out of an underwater-like dream, and he followed like a fish caught on a line. Suddenly there was a thunderstorm of sound around them, the Spartan felt a violent breeze on his face. He wasn’t wearing the helmet. How come? Small hands were keeping his head still, warm fingers clutching him right under the ears.

He couldn’t breathe right. He couldn’t smell anything.

So tired. He felt so tired, he needed to sleep.

Fred didn’t think it twice, his eyes rolled back and he just…

“FRED, NO! STAY AWAKE!” Veta shouted, close. The Spartan blinked fast, coming back immediately. Everything was so blurry, fuzzy, deafening, confusing. “YES! THAT’S IT! OPEN THOSE PRETTY EYES FOR ME, COME ON!”

Breath choked in his throat, he coughed. Swallowed. It hurt, it fucking hurt.

He tried to talk but the words didn’t come out.

_Where was she?_

The Inspector. Was she okay?

He tried to ask about it, again, but for the second time the words didn’t happen.

Copper in his saliva. It might’ve been blood. He didn’t think it was his own guts, not yet. His chest felt like he’d been run over by a massive truck yet again. Something heavy was sitting on him, or at least that’s how he felt. He couldn’t move right. He couldn’t think right.

He couldn’t feel anything below his neck, for that matter.

He did acknowledge the familiar cold sting of biofoam seeping down his wounds, cramming and tightening the space between his skin and the undersuit. It stung everywhere, literally. A part of him groaned, trying to imagine the extent of the damage.

But without a cause…

Right. Of course, few things could knock down a Spartan.

Gravity hammer dead-center to the chest, in this case. _Atriox_.

He stepped too close, trying to get Veta away.

He had ordered her to stay on the back, twice. He told her this dumb idea wouldn’t work and she still wanted to try. She was so small, she thought she could make it to stick that grenade on the back of the Chieftain. And she did, but she wouldn’t clear the blast zone in time and he tried his best, he launched her like a cannonball to Olivia’s arms a millisecond before Atriox got him. Perhaps he should’ve trusted her instead of being afraid for her.

He remembered hearing the explosion, but that was… when?

Where were they? What was that horrendous noise?

Again, where was the Inspector?

The Lieutenant was so dizzy that he didn’t recognize the roaring engines of the Pelican or the desperate orders shouted around him by medics. Someone was saying that they were losing something, with a stern voice. Not him, right? They weren’t losing him.

_Spartans never die._

He tried to take another deep breath.

“Easy, Fred. Easy, don’t get too worked up.” she said, somewhere above.

“Hold on tight, we’re almost there.” that was unmistakably Kelly, somewhere to his left.

He looked up, trying to manage those shallow breaths and enough motor control to stumble upon her hazel eyes. There she was. Fred managed a dumb, wide smile, full of bloodied teeth. Lopis seemed alright, apparently his head was resting on her lap and she was the one holding him straight. There was an open wound on her forehead that was bleeding down her cheek. The impulse to nag her about not using her helmet almost overwhelmed him, but…

“No… NO, STAY AWAKE. Look at me, Fred. That’s it. Easy there.”

He obeyed again.

If he focused in her eyes, it was easier not to succumb.

“Veta.” he breathed out, shakily.

“I’m here. I’m here, Lieutenant, please, just…” she bit her lip and scrounged up her nose.

Was she sad? Why?

“Did you get him?” he mumbled, his gaze still locked to hers.

“We got him.” she nodded, those trembling fingers caressed his ear softly. “Don’t speak.”

Fred swallowed again, wincing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t…”

“Don’t speak. Your chestpiece is bent inwards, compressing your heart and lungs. You could be bleeding internally, we can’t run a scan right now, please… please, just stay quiet, stay awake.” she cut him off. “Try to breathe slow.”

Veta bent over and pressed her forehead to his, her whole body trembled.

Fred froze, eyes wide open staring to the Pelican’s ceiling. His body began to ache.

“You had to get me out of the way, didn’t you?” she sighed, he could barely hear. “That was the single stupidest thing I’ve ever saw. I was planning to roll into the ravine, Fred. I was going to be fine.”

“You’re okay. I’m okay.”

Lopis huffed a choked laughter. Her fingers shifted, she was touching his cheeks now.

“ _Of course_ you are.” she growled, angry. “Spartans never die.”

“Veta…”

“Stop talking. Just… stop talking, please.”

He did as she said; the Inspector was already very upset.

**#4. COMING BACK AROUND**

(set a few days after entry #3)

It wasn’t difficult to breathe anymore, that was the first thing he noticed.

Coming back from the drug-induced haze, Fred-104 opened his eyes again to find a set of bright white walls and a deafening silence, only broken by soft bleeps. Hospital room, check. He felt fine, drowsy but mostly fine. In one piece. In silence, the Lieutenant counted to ten and then backwards, he listed the capital cities of Reach and recited a short song. His memory was okay, as far as he could tell.

A few flashes of the moments prior to losing consciousness played the images on the back of his mind. Atriox, the hammer. Roaring engines, stiffness and Lopis’ frightened eyes.

_‘…your chestpiece is bent inwards, compressing your heart and lungs. You could be bleeding internally…’_

The wound had been to his chest, not his head.

Right, maybe that’s why he had a tube shoved into his mouth, oxygen probably. Fred moved his fingers, they responded. Moved his toes and they responded too, at least he could feel them. Now, if he could only _see them_ move…

When he managed to tilt his head a little, he stumbled upon her.

Lopis.

She seemed to be sound asleep, with her head resting on the curve of her arm propped on the edge of his bed. She was sitting on a flimsy chair, her lean body stretched in what seemed like an uncomfortable pose; the t-shirt didn’t get to cover the small of her back and he caught a glimpse of skin and the waistband of her fatigues. A jacket rested on the chair’s backrest.

She looked peaceful, her thick dark eyebrows weren’t scowling and the curve of her full lips was soft and content. The storm finally calm and collected. Unscathed, save for a few stitches on her forehead and shadows under her closed eyes.

But she seemed to be okay. It was good.

A smirk pulled from his lips, past the oxygen tube.

His own hand was just a few centimeters away from her curled fingers that clutched the blue sheet. He dared, and he did it: with barely the tip of his middle finger, Fred touched her knuckles and relished for a minute in the warmth of her skin.

_Only if it were to check how real that sight truly was._

She took a sharp breath and opened her eyes, a little bit confused.

To find him staring down at her.

“You’re awake.” she observed; Lopis sprang to her chair by pushing her weight back with her hands. The next words were a relieved sigh: “Oh, you’re awake.”

Fred tried to speak, his throat was dry and sore. After a few attempts, nothing coherent but a couple of sounds made it out. The tube was also pestering. He pulled the silicone hose out under the Inspector’s protesting look, then decided that it could stay a bit as long as it didn’t bother his speech.

“How did we do?”

Of course he had to ask about the mission. Lopis grimaced.

“All according to Baby Dragon’s expectations.”

“And the Gammas?”

“They’re fine. Probably sleeping too, Kelly and Linda helped to keep them away from here.”

He groaned in approval. But didn’t stop studying her.

“So, what’s with the vigil?”

She hesitated, perhaps considering what to say.

“You were taking… too long to come back.” Veta explained, rubbing her tired eyes. “There were talks about a small embolism. Figured I might as well make sure.”

Lack of oxygen could do that.

Fred pulled the tube back into his mouth a bit more. Just to relieve her.

“How am I doing now?”

“Broken sternum replaced with a titanium prosthesis. All of your ribs were cracked, fixed with screws. You were lucky it didn’t puncture your lungs or your heart.” she commented, not very amused. “Apparently, now you have as much metal inside you as you wear outside.”

“Cool.” he smiled.

Lopis scowled slightly.

“Cool, huh?” she said, low and threatening.

The smile died instantly on the Lieutenant’s lips and something ancient crawled under his skin, commanding him to make himself small and invisible. The Inspector was angry. It didn’t show much on her face, but he could feel it. It irradiated from her and Fred was overly aware of it, every sense connected to her by almost painful tetherings.

It was fury and sadness combined, a scorching anguish. A disarming combination.

She pulled the chair closer, fixing him with that look.

“You could've died.” she said, simply, staring into his eyes. “You could've _died_.”

He didn’t know what to reply, or if he should reply.

A few seconds ticked by in overwhelming silence, until…

“Look, Fred, I know you're ready to sacrifice yourself.” Veta continued. Something gleamed in her eyes; she blinked fast a couple of times, clearly upset. “But _I'm not_.”

Those last words were only a husky whisper.

It took him a few seconds, but Fred understood that she didn't mean she wasn't ready to die herself. That much was clear. He bit the inside of his cheek, troubled.

By impulse, the Spartan grabbed her hand, clutching it tight inside his much larger fist.

“We did it.” he whispered, fighting against the tube installed in his mouth. “You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

**#5. AFTERMATH (alternative 1)**

_(set after “Sugarsweet” by author Volantis. Essential to understand the following snippet)_

It continued to rain the whole night and well into the early hours of the morning.

Fred was usually a light sleeper, but he had let go beyond comprehension and just dozed off in the backseat of the car, with his back against the locked door, for longer than he had originally intended. And even if there was something hard perpetually poking the small of his back and if the posture wasn’t the most comfortable, he wouldn’t move.

_He would endure, because when would they get another chance like this?_

It was easy to understand: huddled on his lap, there was a petite woman.

Dark-haired and fair skinned, with a perky nose and full lips. Her thick eyebrows had such a personality, almost as charming as herself. She was pretty (beautiful) both in conventional and unconventional ways. Quite small compared to him, but just about the perfect size to hold. Veta hugged his waist with one arm, clutching the front of his shirt with the other, her sleeping face tucked under his jaw. He held her close, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, the other hand resting comfortably on her bent knees. And it felt so right, so damn good, that he couldn’t even be bothered by their soaked clothes or the chilly environment.

They were close and warm, relaxed, together. At last.

At some point Veta had kicked off her shoes. He followed.

It was a consensus, by that time, that they wouldn’t be going back to base soon. Or back to the bar, for that matter. Kelly and Linda would have to find their own ride, and Fred didn’t doubt that they had it all figured out already.

This had been their doing, he suspected.

He couldn’t be any more grateful.

 _When was the last time that he got carried away like this?_ Fred couldn’t remember.

It was, perhaps, the most intimate he’d ever been with anyone. He shared a deep intimacy with his siblings, true, but this was quite different in so many, many ways. He hadn’t kissed his siblings or confessed the things he had told to Veta last night. His pulse didn’t quicken when he saw his siblings, his face didn’t flush. They engaged him both intellectually and physically, but they didn’t _ensnare_ him like the little Inspector did. He was powerless to resist her, since day one when she came straight up to him and accused him of murder.

Veta Lopis was mysterious and clever, exciting and intriguing.

He was crazy about her, the Lieutenant knew there was no more point in denying it.

The first pink light of dawn caught them asleep on that backseat, painting for the outsiders a perfect picture of the perfect couple. The Spartan was the first to come around and open his eyes, it took him a few seconds to realize where he was and what was going on. The strange, meager weight on his lap felt hot and unusual, as did the breath against his throat and the slim fingers tucked under his shirt, still in contact with the skin of his waist without barriers.

He wasn’t used to be touched like this. To be held like this.

_To be loved like this._

A whole lot of things had happened between them in the past few months (years) and it all had come down to this: a moment, almost ruined by inexperience but turned wonderful. Special. Unique. Incredible. His lips still burned with the feel of her kisses. His body still ached in that instinctive way he didn’t know how to take advantage of. Not properly, at least. But neither him nor Veta let the awkwardness of the circumstances break apart the moment for both, they didn’t ruin it going after something they didn’t really know if they wanted, yet.

There was… a lingering ember, yes. There was something hot in there. Between them.

_The key was to not let it burn down the house, but keep it warm and cozy._

For now, Fred would trust her with that responsibility, since he was the one lacking the skill.

But it felt so good to wake up and feel her there.

It was amazing to smell her. Touch her. Hold her.

Veta didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to let her go either.

So, they stayed, and they chatted for hours on end refuged in the half-dark, lulled by the rain hitting the roof of the car and their hushed voices. Some very intimate secrets were shared. Lopis asked if he remembered his parents or something about his life before the conscription, to which he replied with complete honesty: he couldn’t say much, but not because of orders. It had been over forty years back. It was only natural that he had forgotten most of his real identity. Instead, and maybe trying to drive her away from that subject, Fred asked about the scars on her wrists and ankles, scars that he had seen once when they were getting ready to enter cryosleep. The answer almost made him regret the question, but he listened in silence and showed his support by holding her tighter, pressing his lips to her forehead while she spoke.

Veta told him about her teenage years, _about the cellar and the man_.

About the weeks in darkness, alone and restrained. About her escape. About her father’s death. About the promise she made to herself.

A lot of things about Lopis made sense, then and there. She didn’t have to give him details. Spartans knew very well the things humans did to other humans.

_How much worse than the wretched Covenant they could be._

The Inspector unraveled her soul to him, the Lieutenant did as much as he could to repay the courtesy. Eventually, in that soft back and forth of secrets, wishes and hopes, Veta fell asleep. For some reason, it made Fred’s heart swell and thump heavily in his chest, that she had chosen to trust him so deeply, so blindly, as to lower her guard completely to him.

It was a treasure he would keep with his life.

A moment so perfect…

Perhaps as good as her kisses. He blushed a little thinking about it.

Fred let her sleep well past five-thirty, even if the parking lot had been deserted for a long while now. They had time. They didn’t have to be anywhere until the afternoon. The paperwork would still be there, waiting, when they returned. Kelly would handle the Gammas. Linda would entertain Baby Dragon and ping him if something was wrong.

So, he broke protocol a little bit more. He stared at her sleeping features, even dared to trace the shape of her beautiful lips in the air, hovering just at the right distance. He debated whether to wake her up with a kiss or just shake her slightly, and it felt so strange, out of place and yet so exciting. _He was dying to kiss her again_ , Fred realized. He didn’t know if it was okay to do it when she couldn’t say if she wanted it or not, so he preferred to wait. He figured Veta would’ve liked it better if he asked first.

_He was bursting with curiosity and fascination._

Well, the poor thing was caught under her spell, who could blame him?

They had time. Maybe limited, but it would be well-spent in the benefit of both.

Fred would make sure of that.

**TO BE CONTINUED IN FOLLOWING CHAPTERS**

**DEDICATED TO: You, who are reading this. And to Volantis for the inspiration and the support, her fic is EVERYTHING. Unf. Such a lovely piece. All of her Freta pieces are lovely, GO READ THEM ALL! RUN, YOU FOOLS!**

**Alright, guys, I hope you liked this experiment! Please leave your reactions in the box below, I would be delighted to know what you think :3**


	2. HUMAN WARMTH (alternative 2, reworked)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of sexual abuse (nothing explicit or graphic) and mention of a possible abortion (nothing explicit). I didn’t want this to get so dark, but the story was constantly taking me there. Read the note at the end to understand why. Fred and Veta got me so hooked lately. Thank you HotDogHowitzer for lending a very helpful hand on matters of trauma and PTSD, it was a very enlightening chat and the reading material proved to be even more enlightening!   
> Again, this piece would be set DIRECTLY after Volantis’ “SUGARSWEET”. Yeah, I said I was obsessed with that fic, y’all can roll your eyes if you want. Now, please enjoy.

**HUMAN WARMTH (alternative 2, reworked)**

_**(set after “Sugarsweet” by author Volantis. Essential reading to understand this)** _

_Warmth, comfort, safety._

Those were three things Fred-104 hadn’t felt together in a long, long time. Ever since he was a child, probably. As an adult, the Spartan had made his own comfort and safety in the inside of his MJOLNIR and he was rarely seen out of it, or out of his undersuit. He’d never worn civilian clothes, at least not after being conscripted and turned into one of Humanity’s last bastions.

Warmth could also be achieved, somehow.

But it was never completely right, you know?

Fred had always been a little soft. He was an excellent Spartan, probably the second best amongst all of them, one of the highest ranked for sure. A natural-born leader, a bit of a dreamer. Cunning although quirky. Honest, righteous. Brutal when he had to be. Swift, relentless, hard to beat. Good-natured, funny. Strong and smart, yet undoubtedly innocent.

It was that same innocence what kicked him off the sleepy haze that morning.

He didn’t recognize the smells, for one. Flowers and… fruit, maybe? It was sweet and nice. Delicious. The pillow between his arms was also very comfortable. A bit squishy. He nuzzled the warmth before his face, it was so soft and hot. It felt so nice. He groaned under his breath, delighted, with his eyes still closed, and continued to rub his cheek and lips on that heat. Unusual but not unwelcome.

A primal memory from a long time ago told him this was good. This was home.

It reminded him of the embrace of his mother, for some reason. Of human warmth.

That warmth embraced him back. It held him, squeezed him.

Skin on skin.

_Human skin. Soft, mushy. Smooth._

Fred’s eyes burst open and he gasped, disoriented.

He reared back a little, only to get a wider perspective of his situation. Yes, there was human skin under his fingers, and between his arms, and that same human skin was wrapped around his torso, right below his armpits. Legs, _a woman’s slender legs_ , and what he held was her waist, he’d been sleeping with his face pressed to her belly, right under her breasts.

His body burned with shame immediately. Zero to sixty in zero-point-five.

Oh, what happened? What did they do?

_What the heck did **he** do??_

He was almost afraid to look up, but he did anyway. Fred was a Spartan, not a coward.

Lying on her side and facing him, Veta Lopis occupied the upper part of a big, comfy and unknown bed, she rested almost sinking in a nest of white blankets, with an arm twirled around a white pillow. Her dark hair was a total mess, it covered half of her face. She snored slightly, softly. Dead asleep. And thank every deity ever existed, she was wearing a black sports bra that covered her meager chest. The Lieutenant sighed in mild relief. Only to realize that his own arms and hands were comfortably propped on her legs and backside.

Fred retreated immediately, confused, heart thumping loud inside his ears.

But the grip of her legs around his torso didn’t disappear. He wasn’t wearing his t-shirt, and for the looks of it, there were no pants either. His cold feet dangled off the bed. He didn’t panic only because nothing felt _loose enough_ as to be sure he’d been sleeping naked. It’s not like he could look down, Lopis’ black underwear was right in his line of sight. He was _a gentleman_ , for fucks sake.

Fred shivered despite not being cold; the Inspector’s warmth seeped down his skin and made him feel even hotter.

No. No, wait, they didn’t get drunk. He would never…

It got a bit hot under the collar in the backseat of that car, maybe, but that was it and he was sure. _That was all of it_. Both him and Veta understood that it was better not to push it, right? There was an obvious want, a need, a desperate hunger, but…

But after a few minutes, they got back to the bar.

And they sat together, soaking wet, drank and enjoyed themselves.

One of the bartenders even gave them a mop to clean up the floor under their boots.

_They didn’t get drunk._

So, how come they were both half-naked (save for the underwear) in an unknown bed?

The rain. Simple as that.

It all came back because, eventually, it would.

Kelly and Linda had already left, right before the storm got worse. It was past midnight. The rain didn’t seem to wind down, driving under those conditions didn’t look like a good idea no matter how experienced or ruthless the driver. They could barely see ten meters ahead and that would be extremely dangerous on a highway.

They would have to stay. Veta pointed out at the hotel across the street.

The proposal made him extremely nervous back then, and he expressed it with a look.

She understood and smiled, holding his hand.

“Just until our clothes are dry and the storm is over.” she promised. “Do you trust me?”

Oh, God, he was such a fool. He nodded and followed.

The receptionist had given them a weird look, as if she were considering his height and hers, and trying to run some numbers in her mind. She smirked, apparently it was good math. Veta fixed the woman with a scowl and asked for a room. One big bed was fine. After an exchange of keys and cards, they went upstairs. She went to the bathroom, got undressed, hung her pants and sweater and returned to the bedroom in her bra and panties… to find Fred sitting on the edge of the bed, in his briefs, and his clothes placed on the backrest of a chair so they could dry off.

Their eyes met for a second, but it was a second too long.

_So much could’ve happened._

Especially parting _from that look they shared_ , heavily loaded with intentions that none of them felt capable of materializing. Appraising each other slowly; although she’d seen him half-naked once, Fred was lying eyes on the goods for the first time.

It was too much and it was enough at the same time…

**X.X.X.X.X.X**

The situation required a bit of decorum, at least, didn’t it?

In the absence of proper protocol, he decided to keep his briefs on. Fred felt quite out of his element, sitting quietly on the edge of a disproportionately big bed in a room that was also bigger and prettier than most he’d ever been into. It reminded him immediately to that time back on Gao and it made him smile a little. That bed had been even bigger. This room had cream-colored walls and curtains, most of the furniture was imitation wood, the carpet had a light-brown swirly pattern. It felt nice under his bare feet. It smelled nice.

So different from… well, almost _everything_ he had ever known.

The texture of the carpet wasn’t new to him, though, but Fred couldn’t pinpoint exactly when or where the memory had originated. It was just familiar.

Outside, the mixture of furious rain and wind roared through the street; there was a flash of light and then thunder cracked, rolling slowly. For a second, the amber lights flickered. It shoved the Spartan into attention, running the check-up in the back of his mind: all exits were accounted for and secured, his back was somewhat covered. There were elements he could use as weapons, if he needed. Fred forced himself to let go for a minute. Well, Lopis had been right about this, it didn’t look well enough to drive under such climate conditions… although he was sure that he could’ve pulled it off smoothly. He was a very good driver.

Fred dipped his head and killed a wider smile.

_So, he had taken Veta’s suggestion because he wanted to stay a little longer?_

… maybe.

The bed did seem very soft, it sank easily under his weight.

Before he could consider dropping on his back to further test the softness of the mattress, the bathroom door opened. Veta came out, ruffling her hair with a towel.

The thing is, he was perfectly comfortable until that precise moment.

He didn’t mind standing bare in the middle of a lab, being scanned, probed, poked, measured and pinched. In the cold, idle for hours on end until the procedures were finished. He didn’t mind undressing amongst strangers when getting ready for cryosleep, when he didn’t have the choice to ride the tube in full armor or undersuit. He absolutely _never_ had a problem (or gave a thought) about getting naked to shower with his teammates or other friends from the Spartan II company.

This, however- this felt entirely different. His skin prickled.

It was _the way she looked at him_ , when she scanned the room and found him, what made the difference. She froze for a few heartbeats.

Fred was aware that the techs regarded him more like a fine piece of machinery than a man. Military personnel usually stared, either absorbed, shocked or wary, considering the flesh-and-blood man under the metal. Civilians never got to see more than the outer shell. He understood.

But he didn’t understand this. She wasn’t even naked, to begin with.

So _he stared_ , in return.

Maybe taking into consideration (and maybe also for the first time ever) the shapes of another individual for more than just a honed, high-precision weapon. Of course, with cryosleep being a thing, this wouldn’t be the first time he caught a glimpse of her bare body, but there was so little to relate to, that Fred took in every tiny detail and memorized her for further analysis. Like the graceful curve of her neck and how it connected to her slender shoulders, narrow yet strong; her straight posture and the shade of her skin, a soft caramel that didn’t seem acquired with regular UV radiation exposure. Her nimble hands, as she maneuvered the towel on her hair, her feet well-planted on the floor and her toned calves and thighs, the curve of her hips and waist. He was very used to see muscular builds and scarred skin wherever he looked at, so it always surprised him to notice _how smooth_ she was, there was something incredibly magnetic about it. He didn’t really pay attention to her backside and how it seemed to be a lot fuller than her chest, but Fred did mind the black spandex underwear and how it latched to her body like a second skin. Standard issue, alright, and yet he had never appreciated _how well it fit_.

There were words for all of this, Fred knew. But the words were difficult.

Until he caught up on the gentle smirk on her lips, and swallowed hard, looking away.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

The Spartan nodded. “Yeah, I’m just…” he gestured vaguely at the surroundings with both hands. “Getting used to it.”

Veta pulled the towel off her hair and frowned, worried.

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“No, no. This is… nice. It’s very nice.”

Thrilling. Exciting, _intriguing_. Those were some of the difficult words he was looking for.

For some reason, Fred kept forgetting that less than three hours ago, they had been kissing in the backseat of a car. _Woah_. Exactly. But, really, how was that any different from this? What was he supposed to do, now? Was she expecting him to _actually do_ something? Was this some sort of ploy he was failing to see? The rain was clearly an excuse, but not an unreasonable one. What if, after such a favorable outcome, he got something wrong and ended up ruining it? Fred hated not catching up on things, not to…

Veta cut his train of thought in half when she approached, quietly.

He took a sharp breath, a little stiff, but didn’t back away.

He wouldn’t back away _this time_ , no sir.

All he could manage to do was to sit there and watch her closing in, sense her nervousness as Veta leaned towards him and brushed her lips on his. His response was uncharacteristically slow, but Fred closed his eyes and enjoyed the contact. One second it was there, warm and moist, and the next it was gone. So unsatisfyingly brief. Before he could grasp the full meaning of what just happened, she dropped beside him on the bed and handed him the second towel he didn’t even see she was carrying.

Right, his hair was damp.

For a few seconds, again, there was only the sound of rain.

“You seem upset.”

“With myself, maybe.” he snorted, looking down at the towel.

Veta seemed even smaller out of her clothes. The dent his own weight made on the mattress was like a gravity well, pulling her closer. She irradiated heat on him and it was hard to ignore, but it did take the discomfort away. Fred hurried to throw the towel over his head, rubbing it on his scalp, eyes up front.

“Anything I can do to help?” her question was honest, carefree.

He chuckled. “Sit on my lap again?”

Before Fred could take back that unfortunate comment, Veta burst out laughing and looked up to him, raising an eyebrow. The Spartan tried to ignore harder the heat coursing through his skin, gathering up on his face.

“Well.” she started. “If I didn’t know you any better, I would say you liked kissing.”

“I did.”

She didn’t laugh this time; however, the smile was still there. And it was a different smile.

“I liked it too. But I don’t think it’s a great idea right now, all things considered.”

Veta made a significant gesture, pointing out their evident state of undress.

Right. They had decided some kissing was enough.

But then, why did he want _more_?

“We don’t have to kiss.” he shrugged a little.

Why did he keep running his foot into his mouth? Fred focused on drying his hair faster, then scrubbed the towel over his shoulders and chest. He was completely oblivious to a certain pair of hungry eyes focused on the movements of his arms, counting the birthmarks that were still quite noticeable amongst the scars.

“I didn’t bring you here to take advantage of you, Fred.”

 _As if_. He repressed another chuckle, and…

“You want to go?” the mere idea of fucking up so bad (again) that Veta would want to leave almost hurt him physically. But she wasn’t that easy to break or insult:

“No, of course not. I’ll do you one better, if you’re willing to indulge.”

Better than kissing? Well…

Fred nodded, dropping the towel onto his lap. “Sure, why not?”

The former Inspector grinned, pulling her hair over one shoulder, and knelt beside him on the mattress. Then, she grabbed gently his forearm and pulled. Curious, the Spartan twisted his own body to follow her, until he caught up on what Veta was trying to do: there was enough space for both, why stay on the edge? He scooted to the center of the bed and sat down, stretching his long legs, finding approval in Veta’s smile. He anticipated that she would sit similarly, either across or beside him… once again, this woman surprised him.

She sat on her heels, in the space between his legs, _showing him her back_.

Then Veta relaxed onto him, lying back against his thigh and chest, curling up.

She twisted her head all the way up to meet his gaze, sporting that little smile. An obnoxious flight of insect wings burst out in his stomach, suddenly.

“How about this?”

Fred couldn’t help to return the grin. “Seems better, indeed.”

“Are you sure it’s not too close?”

“We’ve been _closer_.”

He didn’t really want his voice to sound so low, or gruff, or husky, but… seeing her halt and swallow hard like that _was exciting_. Her weight felt comfortable, the warm contact of her skin directly on his became exhilarating. With their gazes still connected, he instinctively looked for Veta’s right hand and held it, curling his much larger fingers around hers. Many unspeakable things were shared in that silent stare. Her chest wrapped in black spandex rose and fell, maybe a little too fast; she licked her lips, pressed her thighs together and pulled up her legs. Her pupils dilated, that gorgeous hazel nearly devoured by darkness. All of that in the span of three seconds that felt like forever.

But she didn’t seem nervous or uncomfortable, this was _more_.

There was _more to it_ , definitely. He could’ve kissed her again, right then and there.

Had it really been a better idea?

For him, this felt even more intimate. It wasn’t the absence of clothes or the proximity alone. Maybe that’s when the Spartan realized that she wasn’t expecting anything from him, and that he could stand down, relax. He couldn’t help to trace uncertain lines up and down her left forearm with his free fingertips. Something was building up, for sure, but it wasn’t ill-advised.

“Are **_you_** comfortable?” this time, it was him who asked.

“Yeah, sure. You’re a little _too hard_ , but I can’t complain.” Veta chuckled and snuggled a bit closer. “Again, I find myself doing things I never thought I would do.”

“You mean, besides from kissing a Spartan in the backseat of a car?”

“You’re really hung up on that, aren’t you?”

“Does it… bother you that I keep bringing it up?”

The question was so honest that it burned, Veta could see it in his eyes.

“No. If anything, it’s reassuring.”

She pulled her hand free from his hold and stretched up to graze Fred’s cheek. But the way he tilted his head down to meet her fingers made her heart throb wildly. And then she gasped, when he put his own palm on top, pressing her hand to his face and holding it in place. The feel of that light stubble on her skin prickled in all the good ways. No matter how hard they tried, there was just… no explanation.

_Fred found himself doing things he never thought he would do, either._

Oh, he could’ve just…

Minutes just flew by in that quiet, until they were both perfectly relaxed.

Thunder rolled in the distance, again, after the proper lightning. Fred caught her left forearm, rubbing the skin in a very specific area with his thumb. He had noticed the scars before, in both of her wrists and ankles; it didn’t take a genius to understand those markings were the result of sustained trauma. Many of his fellow company members had similar scars from old training exercises, he figured she’d been tied up or…

“I’ve been meaning to ask about these.” he started, interested.

If anything, scars were a subject Spartans were well-versed on.

But it took her a while to understand what he meant. And that time, Veta stiffened.

She quickly sat on her heels, again showing him her back. Her sudden discomfort hit him like a brick on the face. Something in the intensity of her posture made it under Fred’s skin; he opted to sit like her, keeping a bit of a respectful distance with his back straight and his fists curled up, resting on his thighs. He waited, eager.

“I supposed you would ask, eventually.” She looked over her shoulder, anticipating the words he didn’t say. “It’s fine, Fred. I want to tell you. I want to tell you _everything_.”

“I’m listening.” he offered.

Veta exhaled a shaky breath, holding both hands together on her lap.

How many times had she told this tale? Way too many. Half the people that knew about it were dead; the other half, it was likely she would never get to see them again. The most detailed account of the events was in a police report. At this point she believed herself insensitive to the facts, but she couldn’t remain indifferent _to the memories_.

The sound of the rain helped soothe her troubled emotions. Nothing ever made it easier.

“Three young girls had gone missing in my town, in the span of four years.” she started, after clearing her throat. “The victims were never found; some blood samples were recovered on what was believed to be the point where they disappeared, so it was evident that they didn’t run away. Profiling deduced the perpetrator could be male, fifty to sixty years old, white of skin, of strong complexion with dark hair and dark eyes. Local-based. They had literally nothing else, just an assumption about an Average Joe.” Veta paused for a second, realizing how cold and methodical she sounded. She was merely repeating what she read a thousand times in the report of her case. “On September 3rd, 2540, approximately at 1815 hours, the perpetrator snuck behind me while I was walking home from school. Hit me on the back of the head with a heavy object, it didn’t knock me out right away so he had to hit me a second time. There were no witnesses. I woke up naked and chained up inside something that looked like a small closet. Very, very small.”

Veta heard the Spartan’s breath hitching.

She continued, determined to narrate the tale. “The location was a farm, I could hear animals outside. The walls of the closet were raw stone; it was a cold, humid place, a wine cellar. The perpetrator was indeed an older white male with strong complexion, dark hair and dark eyes. A farmer. I was in captivity for the good part of three weeks, while this man systematically abused and humiliated me. I’m going to spare you the details… it was nasty. Could’ve been worse, but it was bad enough. I was sleep deprived, underfed and bruised, but managed to pry loose one of the bolts that held my right arm in place and next time he showed up, I beat him up on the face with the chain. Fished the keys out of his hand, grabbed a brick and bashed his head until I killed him. I spent two days wandering across the jungle until I stumbled upon a resort, hysteric at this point. One of the employees got the police and the medics.” she took a sharp breath, straightened her back. “No more girls went missing after that.”

Veta looked down at her hands, still on her lap. Her fingers were shaking.

Should she mention the immediately following visit to the Reproductive Health Clinic?

_No. He didn’t need to know that._

He didn’t need to know, either, that she isolated herself within the confines of her own room for weeks after the events. The special therapy. The anger, the self-loathing. The grief. Sudden, inexplicable mood-swings. Fear to go out on the street, disgust whenever she looked at herself on the mirror. The dread of bathing or showering.

She _hated_ touching her own body.

No more girls went missing in her town, alright, but the violence and crime rates escalated. It was a turbulent time, the Insurrection had a strong presence on Gao. It enraged her deeply to see that so little was being done to protect the innocents. Criminals entered one door and went out straight through the other a few days later. The police seemed more worried about the political agendas, the separatist groups ran amok in the jungle doing whatever they wanted.

She didn’t want this to happen to anyone else. Her motivation was right there.

Fifteen years later, Veta Lopis could say that she did well for herself.

One thread remained. She had strong friends and family to support her, but it was easier to deal with the anger and use it to fuel her drive than to face the disgust and discomfort that the proximity of men caused her. She tried, once or twice. It was difficult, uncontrollable. Her body reacted by instinct to their presence and bucked away, her emotions followed. Even more so if their clothes smelled of tobacco, if they had a strong laughter or attempted to touch her hair…

Only Cirilo had been kind enough to understand and stay close, as close as she let him be.

Before she could help it, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

_And she felt the weight and warmth of a big hand, lying softly on her shoulder._

An insane comfort washed over her, upon his touch. She didn’t shudder. Veta still couldn’t understand what made Fred different, of all people, but it was a relief to feel him close. Although she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to see her like this.

“He was middle-aged, with a gentle smile; if I had come across him on the street I wouldn’t even have spared a look in his direction. Nothing about him said ‘ _this man is going to hurt you’_.” Veta took a deep breath, if only to prevent the floodgates of her emotions from busting open. “It was three weeks that felt _like a hundred years_. He came down often. At first I fought, bit him and spit at him, but with the passing days it was harder and harder to stay focused, to find hope. I was cold, hungry. The exhaustion and the pain broke me. I was fading away, the walls started to close on me, asphyxiating me. He kept saying that _it was temporary_. I was sure he would kill me, that cellar smelled like rot.”

It was a rot she had come to identify very well, once she specialized in forensics. Pig fat.

“He smelled of tobacco and alcohol. It was worse when he was drunk, he liked to tug on my hair until he ripped it off.” she swallowed hard, clutching her fingers together. “I made it out of there to find out that my father had died of grief, looking for me.”

Veta paused. This wasn’t facts. Maybe he wouldn’t even understand what she was on about.

But he understood quite a lot, because Fred knew pain and loss, and her words were bleeding all over. The Spartan traced a few gentle circles on her skin with his thumb, in an unconscious gesture that was more helpful than he would ever know.

To say that Fred was stunned was an understatement.

Someone with thirty-plus years of war in their record would say that they had heard and seen it all by now, but nothing could’ve prepared him for this. It was shocking to discover that he was the one trembling, his fists shaking while he listened to the unkindest parts of her recollection. Rage coiled inside him, so suddenly, so fast and so wildly. He could’ve punched a hole through the wall. Veta had been specific enough; he was trained to identify torture, even to inflict it if necessary. It was a fact that some of his comrades wouldn’t even bat an eye if presented with the order. But this, this was…

He could sense her despair. Her grief.

_What was he supposed to do, now?_

“I realized you had a problem with tight spaces.” Fred said, objectively.

It was implied that he hadn’t even begun to understand how deeply rooted that problem was. His grip on her shoulder tightened a little. She took another deep breath.

Once again, Fred found that the right words were difficult to come by, so he chose not to add anything. Instead, he scurried closer from behind and grabbed both Veta’s shoulders, evaluating her reaction with care. The clean, human scent of her invaded his senses immediately. She didn’t paralyze or back away, and he took that as a good sign.

There was a part of him that grieved with her, that wanted to comfort her.

Out of the blue, Veta put a hand on top of one of his, her head was hanging low.

“Do you mind if we just… forget about this, now?”

Maybe this was the answer he’d been looking for: “I'll do you one better.”

Still very carefully, Fred ran his hands down her arms, showing her that he was unarmed and harmless. They couldn’t see each other’s faces, and that was fine, but he didn’t want to scare her with what he had in mind. It could be a terrible idea; if by any chance it backfired, things could get sour between them after so much development. The Spartan’s heart throbbed wildly at that gruesome idea. However, since Veta didn’t reject his advances, he pushed further, scooting as close to her as possible, mindful of her space… and wrapped both arms around her, engulfing her small frame in an embrace.

She gasped, surprised, but didn’t resist.

 _No, she didn’t bolt or tremble._ Veta moved, curling her fingers onto his arms crossed over her chest, almost trying to embrace him as well, and leaned back into his warmth. She closed her eyes. Fred felt confident enough, then, to shelter her to the best of his ability, gently brushing his cheek on hers. She deflated, turning into a limp weight in his hold, breaking wall after wall until there was no more barriers to lift against him. Fred was sincere. She knew it, her instinct knew it. The hug became tighter, closer. Not oppressive, but _safer_. She unconsciously made herself even smaller, melting into him, fitting perfectly in that bulletproof space.

Both knew that she didn’t need anyone taking care of her, but sometimes…

Sometimes, even Veta Lopis had to let her guard down. 

“How old were you?”

Veta let out a cold, cold breath. “Seventeen.”

The Spartan tried hard to think where he was at that age, what he was doing or feeling. And it bothered him deeply not to remember. It felt like a huge dishonor to her, not being able to find a common ground between them.

“Fred, there’s parts of this that no-one has ever heard before.” she commented, low. “It goes without saying that it’s for your ears only.”

“Understood.” he nodded, sharp. “Is there… anything I can do?”

“Do you remember your life before the UNSC?”

He grimaced. “Veta…”

Fred tried to undo the hug, but she held on tighter to his wrists, trapping him.

“Just yes or no, that’s all I’m asking.”

Fred pressed his lips into a hard line, feeling cornered and not the way he liked it.

He understood that he had been granted a great honor, when she decided to share her personal secrets with him. But that was her story to tell, her suffering, her sacrifice and journey. Fred's story _wasn't his to tell_ , it was a secret that he was commanded to keep because it didn't affect just him, but also his brothers and sisters in arms. He couldn't just _speak_ about it.

Something told him that Veta already knew enough about the secrets behind the SPARTAN II program. She was cunning, resourceful, she could read between the tightest lines. If she had been properly briefed -as he assumed- about the IIIs and their background, then between all the rumors, leaked documents, urban legends and so on…

Yeah, she knew a lot more than she let on.

Maybe she just wanted confirmation.

“There’s not much.” he shook his head, determined. “And you know the word.”

_“Classified.”_

Fred nodded, staring at some point outside the window. If he had the liberty, he was sure that she would be the first outsider to hear all about it.

The Spartan sighed, reassuring his hold on the small woman.

It was uncertain for both how much time passed until Veta turned her head to press her mouth to his cheek, immensely grateful. Fred gave in, content with being of service. There was another slow but chaste brush of lips that almost got out of hand, something inevitable at such a point. Veta felt a lot less troubled than she had been in years, a lot less angry and insecure. Some things couldn’t be denied and that heat rising again between them was growing impossible to control or hide. Maybe Fred wouldn’t have opposed if she said she wanted more, but…

There was a time for everything. He stood firm on their shared decision.

“Want to lay down? You can keep telling me all about your non-classified adventures.”

“I would be _offended_ if you didn’t want me to.”

She let out a chuckling sigh.

Fred smiled too, botched a little bit the execution of an awkward kiss on her temple, but she didn’t complain. They broke apart, soon enough they were both lying on their sides, face to face, sharing again the same space and comfort. He was with his back towards the bathroom, she was with her back towards the door, holding a pillow between her arms. The Spartan groaned with immense delight as he sank down in the mattress, after punching away half a dozen unnecessary squared cushions. It was Heaven.

“This has to be _the best bed_ I’ve ever laid on.” Fred commented, amused.

“We could come back, some other time.” she blurted out, perhaps a little too fast and holding that pillow a little too tight. Her gorgeous hazel eyes were full of hope. “Maybe it could become our secret spot, a little getaway.”

“I like that idea. It wouldn’t be very often, I’m afraid.”

“No. But it would be just the two of us.”

_Wow, she couldn’t stop breaking boundaries that night, could she?_

She had shared more with a Spartan in one night than with anyone else in fifteen years. Not even Cirilo had heard it all. This handsome UNSC thug had to be special, indeed.

Fred’s blue-green eyes flashed with mischief. “It would be great to get away from Kelly and Linda for a while.” he smirked, enthusiastic. “I bet my pension that they set this whole thing up. And I’m terrified of what they’re planning.”

Veta snorted a laugh, her cheeks warmed up.

“Remind me to thank them, later.” she quipped.

“Oh, Inspector, don’t worry… I’ll make sure to thank them for the both of us.”

**X.X.X.X.X.X**

The truth is that after that gripping moment that broke down a delicate barrier between them, the Lieutenant and the former Inspector laid back on opposite sides of that big, pleasant bed and instead of being awkward to one another for the rest of the night, they chatted. Because that was a thing that they were good at, talking. The rain got slower, turning into a soft murmur on the street, but none of them said anything about heading back to base. There was a sympathy beyond the mutual desire that was stronger, solid, that comforted them.

Then the talk slowed down, more and more.

Until Veta fell asleep holding her pillow. Fred decided it would be good to sleep too.

In the present time, the Spartan sighed in deep relief, realizing that it was nothing more than what was in display: they slept. Together, skin-to-skin in the same bed, very close and practically tangled in each other, but that was it. And he felt good. He felt proud, hopeful.

Fred caressed the soft skin of her leg, tossed across his torso. So smooth and toned.

Perfect, just like her.

Maybe it was time to take a little step forward and allow himself _to feel more_.

So, he dared. The Spartan pressed his lips to her belly, and kissed her skin.

Still asleep, Veta mewled unconsciously and her wandering hand found his head, to loosely run her fingers through his hair and then collapse to the blankets, lifeless. Fred closed his eyes, pleased. It felt so good. He squeezed her closer, shifting a little the embrace of her legs around him, pressing his cheek to her stomach with a long, long sigh full of pent-up emotions.

It was fine. It was about as much as he could manage, for the time being.

But he was _warm_ , _comfortable_ and above all, _safe._

And Veta was there, with him.

Perhaps they could return to their little getaway soon enough.

**CONTINUES IN “REUNION”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this reworked version is, again, entirely Volantis’ fault. Come here and make yourself responsible for this mess of feelings, it was absolutely not intended to get this dark or sad but it did, and I’m glad. These two just went through one of the ultimate bolding experiences, I think. I’m sure it will be a great moment in canon when Fred gets to learn about her story, if that’s ever intended to happen. Anyway, I hope it wasn’t too gruesome to read, I tried to make it as aseptic as possible.  
> Enjoy yourselves! There will be some more soon. Thank you for reading, as always!


	3. ESCAPADE (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get back in the saddle (in more than one way) Was it worth it, to pick up where they left off?  
> These events come after “REUNION”, which is set after the book Shadows of Reach.  
> *** THANK YOU VOLANTIS FOR ALLOWING ME TO BORROW SOME LINES FROM "SUGARSWEET"!!

**ESCAPADE (part 1)**

Nothing was the same. Well, it was and _it wasn’t_ , if that made any sense.

After a good week of recovery, Veta was assigned another forty days of physical therapy and in the meantime, debriefings. All sorts of them. While she waited for the skin grafts to heal, and while their situation (and the future of their unit) was sorted out, the Ferrets would be parked. Period. Their mission was over, with their cover blown and the successful assassination of the Jiralhanae leader, they wouldn’t be anywhere near the Keepers of the One Freedom ever again. The enemy knew their faces. Veta figured that ONI would assign them some low-profile job for a few months, until their services were needed again. Thankfully, they were planetside and not canned in some vessel with limited permits to move. It was fine by her, she would have time to round up the education of her Ferrets, those kids had enjoyed three years of slacking off in that department.

She didn’t know where Fred was now, naturally.

He’d visited her room in the infirmary often (the last time two days before she was given the all-clear to return to her duties) usually only for a few minutes. He never had much time. They just sat next to one another and chatted quietly, there were even a few tame kisses. Nothing too passionate, it wasn’t the best of places to let go; yet it made her feel her an immense relief. Fred didn’t say a word about the prolonged absence and instead, preferred to focus his visits on the simple experience of sharing a space alone with her, just like old times.

It was easy to see, he wasn’t exactly subtle to hide his emotions.

But it ate her inside, for three years.

They couldn’t even say goodbye in person and it ate her.

The next day to that morning when they headed back to base, after spending the night at the hotel, Osman delivered their new orders. Secrecy was top priority; her team would be going deep undercover. It was a long commitment, _this was what they have been training for_. She couldn’t even send him a text, this mission technically didn’t exist.

And then, after two years undercover and in a shocking turn of events, she added that note to the intel she was supposed to deliver. Veta wasn’t sure if she would see him again, her mission objective was to give the capsule to a Spartan from Blue Team, and… she couldn’t help herself. It was a one in a billion chance. She went far out of her way _specifically_ looking for him. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry and that he shouldn’t miss them just yet.

Like usual, there was no time. They both had a job to do.

When she was requested to begin with the multiple debriefings, Veta realized Blue Team was gone. No goodbyes. Life continued because, luckily, she was alive. She made it out of that mess in one piece, her kids too.

 _Kids_. They were nineteen now. They weren’t kids anymore.

Some days Veta wondered if they had ever been kids, at all. Her gut clenched a little.

**-o-**

Veta was never particularly conscious of her appearance. She knew that she was a woman of a certain attractiveness (she used to get that sometimes, from Cirilo more than anyone) but didn’t consider herself ‘drop dead gorgeous’ in any capacity. The matter of her hair didn’t concern her as much as the correct healing of the skin grafts on her right arm, hip and leg, but eventually the mohawk had to go. Osman had thrown one indirect too many at her over it.

It didn’t matter. Hair would grow back.

For a whole minute, she considered shaving her head just like the Gammas did and leaving it into the hands of time. But she had already given up enough of herself for the cause. Instead, Veta combed the long, dark strands to one side and cut them loosely around her chin, keeping it styled in that fashion until the roughly cropped areas above her ears and nape grew back. She tamed the new growths with gel or hairpins. She wore a cap most of the day, anyway.

The skin grafts healed as much as they would, and now the markings on her wrists and ankles weren’t the most notorious that she had. It didn’t matter much either, her coveralls had long sleeves and she only had to see that mess when she showered or went to bed. Or when she went to the gym to train with the kids.

_One more spot to the tiger._

Surprisingly, she didn’t hate these new scars as much as she hated others.

Five months went by, more-or-less in a blur.

**-o-**

Crude winter came and went, and it was especially rough. Although the facilities were kept at an even seventy-seven degrees, Veta felt always cold.

Someone from high-brass with a fancy name had decided that the Ferrets needed to specialize more, and so, they would be stationed at that Base indefinitely. Veta, as their keeper and leader, had the obligation to look after Mark, Ash and Olivia and answer for their behavior, but she was also assigned a duty. Her new job was to conduct interrogations. She was damn good at it, people lined up behind the mirrored glass to watch her disarm persons of interest in minutes.

It didn’t bring her joy, though. Accepting the UNSC’s gifts was betraying her own beliefs.

She hadn’t changed her mind about that, yet. She hoped for the best; but, if anything, Veta Lopis wasn’t naïve. She had used them to get her personal revenge as much as the spooks had used her to do their dirty work.

Veta tried to trick herself, once more, into believing that she could make a difference.

_She was a professional, after all, and a human being first and foremost._

Nobody else would care for the Gammas, ONI would only use and abuse them, just like they kept using and abusing Fred and his brothers and sisters in arms. The more she learned, the more bitter she became. The more she cared. It was a sad little vicious circle. She had nowhere to go. No home to get back to.

This was her life, it had been her life for about six years now.

Perhaps she didn’t have to change the world, but she sure could make it less grim for three teenagers that looked up to her.

Perhaps it was time to move on and start rebuilding, properly this time.

She was assigned private quarters on the same floor the Gammas were housed, along with an office in the same block. Her children were slowly coming back into the loop, after three years of deep undercover work in a ferocious world of cunning beasts with brutal, bloody manners and traditions. It took a lot of discipline from her part to keep the Gammas together and prevent them from slipping away. It was hard. They were young, easy to influence and they had to survive in that environment, but they were loyal and cared for her as well. They believed in their mission. Even then, after everything was said and done it was difficult to leave some things behind.

Let’s just say that some days were better than others.

But that was the key, wasn’t it? A day at a time, one foot in front of the other.

**-o-**

A little, almost fearful realization blossomed in her chest when she opened the small drawer of her desk and, rummaging inside to get a protein bar or the next edible thing she could find, her fingers curled around a tiny shape with pointed corners. Veta frowned and pulled her hand out. Upon looking at it, sitting on her palm, she realized that it was a diminutive paper crane like the ones Fred had taught her how to make.

Veta fell back into her chair, deflating, holding the treasure in her hand.

She had caught herself thinking about him many times over the past months, even more so in the past three years. The Lieutenant was just _that hard to forget_ , wasn’t he? She smirked a little, almost apologetically.

_“I need you to know, how meaningful this all is to me. Not just this, all the times that you've spent with me. Chosen, to spend with me.”_

_What if it was too late?_

For three years, the memories of that rainy night, that crowded bar and that hotel room fueled a secret hope. They had an unfinished business, she couldn’t die just yet. Veta would always remember Fred’s eager eyes and that controlled tension lurking under his skin. Back then, the Spartan had been ready to move forward, or at least, he’d been curious enough to try. She wasn’t. Lots of baggage to unpack, too little time to adjust. Veta would always be grateful that Fred understood and respected her choice.

But she could let the ghosts of her past consume her and keep her from living her life to the fullest, or she could take a leap of faith towards healing and…

_And do what?_

_"You... make me so happy, Veta.”_

A little pang of guilt assaulted her, Veta’s eyes bore into that little paper crane.

Fred went out of his way to pull her out from the bottom of a ravine, where she would’ve died of her wounds. She promised him they would figure things out. In the spur of the moment it was so easy to speak, to get carried away by emotions. Now, a few months later and with some perspective, she found herself dumbfounded. Burying her nose in work usually was a good way to drown her sorrows, more productive than drinking or unloading frustration on a punching bag. She did plenty of the latter, of course, but the work was usually her refuge.

She didn’t know how much time they had, or if they would have any, again.

She didn’t even know where to begin, honestly.

_“I’m not used to… needing someone, the way I need you.”_

A lot of her needed him too and wanted to reach out, desperately, but it was difficult.

It would be wrong to mislead him. Was she misleading him, anyway?

Veta swallowed hard. She put the little paper crane back inside the drawer and closed it.

**-o-**

An excited rapping on her door made her lift her eyes only to see three familiar faces on her doorway. Olivia stepped in first, followed by a visibly excited Ash and an attentive Mark. They looked fresh out of the shower, dressed in their black coveralls; a quick glance at the time on the screen of her computer told Veta that it was appropriate, the Gammas were coming back from their afternoon training session.

“Wake up, Mom!” barked Olivia, amused. “It’s the middle of the day!”

“I’m not asleep yet.” Veta quipped, then she smiled.

“Good, you have to come with us.” said Ash, nearly running ahead of Olivia. He stood right in front of the desk, looking like he was about to burst with enthusiasm. “ _They’re back_ , we just saw them at the mess hall.”

Veta frowned, confused: “Wha-who?”

“Blue Team. They’re back.”

She blinked a few times, quickly, still a bit lost.

“Are you sure?”

“Affirmative.” Mark nodded. “I saw them myself.”

The rest of her brain got the memo and her pulse spiked, almost immediately. The next few minutes went by in a blurry mess of corridors and crowded offices, Veta just followed the three young Spartans while she attempted to break out of that surprised haze. Every step was taking her back to him and it filled her stomach with insect wings, more and more and more. A set of double doors led them to a massive dining area half-occupied, the long steel tables and benches were as grey as the walls themselves. Even in such an unremarkable environment, the figures of Fred and Kelly stood out like sore spots. Or at least, the former Inspector didn’t find it hard to notice where the Spartans were.

“Aw.” moaned Ash, a little disappointed. “Linda and the Chief already left.”

“I’m sure you guys can catch up later.” said Veta, trying to mediate. “They’re eating now, we shouldn’t bother them.”

“Can’t do, Mom. Class starts in half an hour.” commented Mark, strolling beside her.

“Who knows if we’ll run into them again soon.” Olivia insisted, she went after Mark.

Ash was by the table before Veta could realize he was gone; the young Spartan was the first to salute. His teammates fell in line beside him and saluted as well, standing straight and proud. Of course, Fred stood up the mere instant he saw them approach, with a smile, and returned the greeting in good humor. He looked fine, unharmed at least. There were a few nicks and cuts on his jaw but he seemed to be in one piece.

Then, he lifted his gaze to find Veta across the mess hall.

**-o-**

Ever since that adventure to the _Sugarsweet_ , nothing had been the same.

Well, it was and _it wasn’t_ , you know?

Fred didn’t think that her return would hit him this hard. Sure, finding out that her status had changed to MIA along with that of the Ferrets was a complex trip for him, but nothing compared to the relief of seeing them alive and kicking ass. It was nothing compared to the thrill of fighting side by side with them again, joining forces to bring down a major target. Yes, yet again her recklessness had gotten Veta badly hurt, but she lived. She was strong, iron-willed.

Veta and the Ferrets were back with a massive victory.

A lot of things came back with her, things the Spartan thought had also _died with her_.

Emotions he wasn’t supposed to feel.

Questions and ambitions he wasn’t supposed to consider.

And then came everything else. Excitement. Curiosity. Eagerness.

Sleepless hours. Unknown (but not unwelcome) sensations. Desires, even.

_Maybe they could pick up where they left off?_

It was no secret that Veta had left a mark in him. Perhaps in some sort of homage to her, Fred had noticed that he had become prone to speaking his mind rather than keeping quiet, and often in a sarcastic tone. He was still every bit the perfect Spartan Halsey had made of him, and yet, Veta managed to slip through the cracks of his armor and make it under his skin, even from her alleged grave. His siblings in arms didn’t really know what to make of it; it helped that they had their own, perhaps more important problems to deal with than to concern themselves with his change of attitude… especially, John. Kelly and Linda were understanding, at least.

There were other details, of course, but those were of private nature. Memories of those last twelve hours triggered sensations that, while not unpleasant, were increasingly frustrating. Like some sort of dumb pavlovian response, Fred couldn't hear the rapping of furious rain and not feel relaxed and even… slightly aroused. It was torture. He had allowed himself to like her. He knew why he liked her. He knew why he missed her and craved her. Why she made him feel this way. There was a word for it, with a meaning broad enough to encompass everything he thought about when he remembered Veta, when he was lost in thought looking at her.

It had taken some time. The realization had also come a bit late, but it was undeniable.

Considering that word, also, was hard; more than hard, it was _unthinkable_.

If he didn’t know any better, Fred would say that this woman had showed up just to upend his entire life. The thought made him smirk, sometimes. Well, it was true. His team had been in a lot of dangerous situations since they crossed paths with the Inspector. In his position and with so many responsibilities, distractions were things Fred couldn’t afford, distractions were paid with innocent lives. He kept falling into the same trap, over and over.

Veta Lopis had a gravity well with the strength of a thousand suns, really.

But those were feelings _three years_ overdue. Was it worth it now?

His memory pulled him back to five months prior, when their mission finished. She let him touch her, hold her hand and hug her, kiss her. It had to mean something.

Fred kept the note, of course. Once, he usually moved that meager piece of paper constantly from different pockets in his armor or clothes, for safekeeping; but lately it was tucked under the silicon frame of his personal pad. He had one, now. Issued for work, sure, but it was his. And it was perfect to hide something so small and yet so significant.

The words were burned in his memory. She promised they would meet again.

_She promised they would figure it out, together._

**-o-**

And now, there she was.

A dozen different emotions came crashing down on Fred when he laid eyes on Veta again, trampling over one another in a rapid fire that barely gave him a few seconds to collect himself. Even if they stood across the table right in front of him, the Gammas disappeared; his hyper-focus surrounded Veta and her small figure standing way too far for his liking. She looked a lot healthier than the last time he saw her, with some more weight on her bones, recovered. Her hair was different, but it was only logical; a mohawk wasn’t a regulation cut. Short suited her, the dark-chocolate strands were barely chin-length and curled around her ears and chin.

Kelly looked up in the same direction Fred was staring at and unfolded a knowing smile.

Then, she picked up her mug, her cutlery and her tray, and stood up to leave:

“I should get going.” she said, amused. “Fred, don’t forget debriefing starts at four.”

Fred answered with a strange noise that wasn’t even a word but meant that he heard her.

By the time Veta arrived to the table, both the Lieutenant and the younger Spartans had taken their seats and were chatting; Olivia sitting on the same bench, next to him, while Ash and Mark were across the table. More like the kids were talking and he was listening, holding a fork but not really eating. They seemed happy to see him, and Fred couldn’t lie either: he was very pleased to meet with the Gammas again and catch up with them. It was a huge relief to confirm that they were back to normal and on top of that, looking like soldiers instead of unruly punks.

He never lost track of her. Veta stood behind Ash and Mark, arms akimbo and smiling.

“Hey, Fred.” she greeted him, her tone was soft and composed.

He was a total mess but tried not to let it show too much.

_There wouldn’t be any chance to find her alone for the time being, he was certain._

“Lopis. Good to see you’re doing okay.” Fred observed and nodded. “Please, sit.”

The boys scooted aside quickly, she took a place between them, looking so small beside those two huge teenagers. The chatter restarted, with the Gammas commenting endlessly on their daily routine, their classes, their grades and stats, the new drills and exercises they’d been running and at last, commenting on Veta’s new job. Fred asked very few questions, since the young Spartans were more than happy to update him on everything relevant. At some point, Olivia started on a passionate tale about Lopis’ legendary interrogation skills and how much the three of them were learning from watching her work.

While he paid the utmost attention to the story, Fred’s stare was set on the woman.

More specifically, taking notice of the wide, irregular scars he could see right under her right ear, heading down her slender neck under the collar of her jacket. The only remaining traces of the massive wounds Veta had gotten as a result of her reckless bravery. He wondered how the rest of her wounds had healed, suddenly (and innocently) curious to see under her clothes. She had killed Castor by sticking a plasma grenade to the back of the Jiralhanae leader’s head. She almost killed herself doing so. Fred was more than proud of the former Inspector too, but back then he had been scared out of his soul.

Veta was looking right back at him, her posture seemed somewhat tense.

Discreetly, the Lieutenant slid a foot in her direction _and tapped her boot under the table_.

Veta didn’t startle visibly. She blinked and her gaze seemed to focus even more on him. This time, she looked at him in the eyes; he thought he saw a faint red crossing through her face. Fred smiled a tiny little bit, reassuringly.

She acknowledged his support with a little smile of her own. The Spartan’s heart leaped.

For a brief moment, the Gammas disappeared and they were alone, connected.

_He had missed the way her lips curved, giving a sarcastic appeal to her features._

“Oh! You guys tell him about the pizza place.” suggested Olivia, with a smirk.

The Lieutenant snapped out of his dreaming haze instantly. Fred looked at the girl first and at Veta next, with an inquisitive gleam in his eyes. Even more than Olivia’s eloquent smile, it was the mention of food what caught his attention.

“What’s that about pizza?” he blurted out.

Veta was left with her mouth open for a few seconds, but she reacted quickly:

“It’s a restaurant in town. We go sometimes, their pizza is fantastic.”

Mark nodded. “It’s good. So much better than MRE pizza.”

“Is that so?”

“Indescribable.” said Ash, eyes closed and yearning. “Makes MRE pizza taste like drywall.”

Fred wrinkled his nose, adopting a defensive stance.

“Lopis, I’m offended.” he shook his head, confronting the woman across from him. “I can’t believe these brats had real pizza before I could.”

“You never tried it?” Veta sounded a little heartbroken.

“Never had the chance. But MRE pizza is maybe the only flavor of ration that’s not bad.”

“Not even the UNSC could ruin pizza.” Veta snorted.

He slightly tapped her foot under the table a second time.

She seemed to understand his intentions more than well because she tapped back. And again, the corners of her mouth curved upwards, catching up with his thoughts; maybe Veta couldn’t read his mind just yet, but she was good at guessing.

“I suppose we’ll have to do something about that, then.” she offered.

“We could go together some time, all eight of us.” quipped Olivia, enthusiastic.

The young Spartan evidently implied that the invitation included the rest of Blue Team. Ash was already checking their schedule in his pad, and got very disappointed when he realized that, first of all, his team didn’t have days off or shore leave assigned for the next three weeks, and Fred was polite enough to comment that he would be very busy until he could get Blue Team’s paperwork and orders figured out.

The mood fell a little, but not for long.

“Maybe you can take him.” Ash told to Veta, almost pleading. “And bring some boxes for us, you know. Like, ten or twelve pizzas so we can stock-up.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Stockpiling food is against regulation, you ass.”

“I’m _obviously_ joking.” Ash rolled his eyes in response, exasperated.

“But it wouldn’t hurt to bring us some.” commented Mark, with a little shrug.

Fred observed their banter with a small, pensive smile, feeling quite proud of the trio.

He locked gazes with Veta again.

“What do you say, Mom?” insisted Ash.

“We’ll see how it goes. But sure, I’d love to show you our pizza place, Lieutenant.”

Fred tilted his head up, trying to hide the revolution inside his chest. “Sounds good.”

**-o-**

Things took an interesting turn twelve days later. A new message blinked in the inbox of her personal Waypoint account, while Veta was tirelessly going over a set of documents regarding the next prisoner she was supposed to interrogate the following day.

It was rather late at night, but her job knew no boundaries.

**OUR SCHEDULES OVERLAP FOR TWELVE HOURS NEXT THURSDAY.**

Veta blinked several times, perplexed. She knew who the sender was, but…

**ARE YOU KEEPING TABS ON ME, LIEUTENANT?**

His reply didn’t take long:

**A COINCIDENCE. I FEEL LIKE HAVING REAL PIZZA, HOW ABOUT YOU?**

Veta stared at the words, again, for a couple of seconds.

It was a monitored channel, but these weren’t super-secret accounts used to exchange delicate information. And none of them were on duty for the time being, allegedly. These were supposed to be ordinary profiles for everyday communication between colleagues; after all Fred-104 was on the upper end of the Gamma’s chain of command even after being MIA for over three years. She wasn’t sure what were the limits of their personal interaction given his position and hers, but Veta didn’t want anyone sniffing around her businesses.

Also, Fred knew that the Gammas didn’t have free time scheduled for a while.

_Maybe he wanted to meet with her, alone._

Her pulse skyrocketed. She typed:

**YOU DON’T NEED TWELVE HOURS FOR PIZZA.**

A crooked smile pushed to break her lips apart, and she waited.

Again, he answered fast; but it did take her a while to react properly after reading:

**PIZZA FIRST. WE’LL SEE ABOUT THE REST. PARKING LOT 12, 2100.**

Veta’s heart pounded even harder, her cheeks warmed up quickly. She laid the pad down on the desk and stared at the words. It shouldn’t be so hard, right? It wouldn’t be the first time that she spent a few hours alone with him. It shouldn’t make her feel this insecure or nervous, torn apart between the insane desire to jump into his arms and the cautious voice that told her that she should step back and recalculate.

Her hands were trembling.

_What if this was her leap of faith?_

**ALRIGHT. WHO’S PAYING?**

Fred’s comment read amusingly irritated:

**I’M THE AFFECTED PARTY HERE.**

Veta snorted and finally laughed, taking her hands to her face.

Was this how Spartans dated? Considering Ash’s attempts to ask a girl out a couple of years back, the former Inspector could make a rough assessment and understand that, even with their limited social savviness, Fred was being an extremely smooth-talker. She would have to call him out on that, at some point.

Pretending disdain, she replied:

**CHIVALRY IS DEAD, IT SEEMS. I’LL BE THERE.**

A few seconds went by. She decided she could joke with him a little bit more:

**WEAR SOMETHING NICE. IT’S YOUR FIRST PIZZA, AFTER ALL.**

He didn’t answer again that day, but Veta couldn’t stop smiling to herself.

**-o-**

Thursday happened. Duties were fulfilled, exercises completed, showers thoroughly taken.

Kelly wasn’t surprised to see Fred in their shared quarters, but it did catch her attention that he was standing in front of his bed and there were clothes neatly piled on the mattress, in three little sets. The Lieutenant seemed to be drowning in his thoughts, the lines of worry on his face were quite revealing.

"Watcha doin’?" she asked, puzzled.

"I'm considering what to wear."

"... so, clothes?" Kelly ventured, matter-of-factly.

"It's important. I'm going out."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Out of base." he elaborated, glancing at her briefly.

"What for?"

She only kept questioning him because they weren't on duty. Right now, he was just Fred, her brother. Another entirely different matter it would be if they were working, considering he was technically their senior officer.

Fred returned to the silent evaluation of his garments. He had to answer, eventually.

"Lopis wants to show me something."

Kelly's face shifted from confusion to mischief.

"Oh. I see." she commented, smirking a little. "Can I offer my input?"

"Sure, why not?"

She stepped beside him, delving into her tactical assessment. There wasn’t much to look at, it was either the black, long-sleeved compression shirt and track shorts they used for their general physical training, the standard olive-green fatigues or the black formal attire that they rarely ever used. The dress whites were usually tailored for the occasion and used in even rarer events, but Kelly had the feeling that it would’ve been a little over the top.

She pointed at the fatigues, especially at the pants and its multiple pockets.

"Wear those. Deep pouches, you can shove some knives in there."

"That's a good point."

John stalked in from the hallway and stumbled upon them, stopped dead on his tracks.

“What’s going on?” he asked, mildly worried.

Kelly motioned her hand in an urgent approach signal.

“Come here, we could use your assessment.”

The Master Chief indeed went to her. “What’s the issue?” He stepped between the other two.

“What would you wear to go out of the base?” asked Kelly.

“You mean, on a mission?”

“No, just… going out.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Just pretend you do.” Fred insisted. “It’s important.”

“If I had to leave the Base, I’d do it in armor.”

“I can’t go to town in armor, Chief. It’s not an official engagement.”

“Then where are you going?”

“Lopis wants to show him something.” Kelly explained, quickly.

John stood quietly a few seconds. It was an unnerving silence.

“I see.” his tone was even but it hid an underline of amusement. “Scratch the formalwear, you said this isn’t an official engagement.”

Fred nodded. “So that leaves PT gear or fatigues.”

Linda was to last one to come into their room; she glanced sideways at her siblings standing together near Fred’s bunk. For a moment, she thought of avoiding and going straight to her bed, but something in their postures screamed they were up to something. She had known them for over forty years, she could read them more than well.

She approached but didn’t say anything at first. John noticed her, turning his head.

“Linda, care to comment?”

“On what?”

Again, Kelly: “Fred is going to town with Lopis and he’s trying to decide what to wear.”

Thankfully, none of them was aware of what the expression ‘go to town’ meant.

Linda cocked her head. Well, that was new and interesting.

She stood next to Fred and studied the garments with the same intensity that her siblings were imprinting to the whole situation.

“Well, what’s the SITREP?”

“We already discarded the formalwear.” John commented. “It’s inadequate.”

“Alright. Fred, where’s your hooded jacket?” she asked.

“I don’t need it.” Fred replied. “The weather is mild, short or thin-long sleeves should do.”

“Get your hooded jacket. Compression shirt, fatigues pants and boots.”

Linda pointed her finger at each item as she named it, except for the jacket. Fred and Kelly immediately turned to look at her, joining John in the staring contest. The Lieutenant opened his mouth to reply something but promptly shut up and arched an eyebrow, pensive.

“You want me to combine mismatching pieces of two different uniforms?” he said. “Why?”

“It will look good on you.”

“And you will have plenty of pocket space.” Kelly added.

John crossed his arms. “Better take precautions, it could rain. The jacket sounds good.”

Yeah, seems like it was decided.

That night around 2100 hours, Fred waited for Veta to meet him at the designated parking lot dressed precisely in his black long-sleeved compression shirt, fatigues pants, boots and his dark-gray hooded jacket. Linda was absolutely right: he looked damn fine.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two will bring us pizza, feelings, smoochies and… we’ll see. These lovebirds are one step away from burning up, even if they keep sabotaging themselves. Stay tuned, it should drop in a few more days. If you like, please say something! I love reading your reactions :)


	4. ESCAPADE (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had become some sort of refuge for them, away from everyone and everything.  
> Nothing more than badly needed solace.  
> WARNING: grammar/orthography not properly checked. I'm tired. Cheers!

**ESCAPADE (part 2)**

Fred had picked the best possible place to sit, perhaps unconsciously. They always did, Veta knew it all too well. She figured the Spartan did environment recon on autopilot no matter where he was, but _hardcore_ compared with how the Gammas minded their space. She was carrying a small concealed gun just in case, he seemed unarmed (though the lack of a weapon wouldn’t make Fred 104 any less dangerous, all things considered). You never knew when you could find yourself in the middle of a shootout.

 _Pinno’s Pizza_ sat in a discreet corner of downtown, close enough to the UNSC Base and spaceport for it to be usually filled with military personnel. That night, it wasn’t the exception although the place wasn’t absolutely crowded, yet. It had a picturesque vintage appeal in wooden colors and open spaces, a call back to a time Veta had never lived herself but felt familiar. It was nice, the Gammas loved it. The patrons didn’t seem to mind their presence much, a lot of the tables and cubicles were taken and the loudest were a group of eleven ODSTs (clearly) gathered at the bar watching some race. A low murmur of voices muffled the sounds of the projection and the ambient music.

And Fred was sitting with his back against the wall, in a posture that was deceivingly relaxed.

He fidgeted with an empty glass, keeping those sharp eyes shaded by the brim of his cap and intermittently jumping from corner to corner. He couldn’t let go and it was rather easy to guess why. Veta wasn’t expecting him to make all the conversation, but that kind of quiet worried her; talking was one of the things they did best, wasn’t it?

_Maybe going out the two of them alone had been a mistake?_

Maybe he was trying to get back in the saddle, just like her. This wouldn’t do.

Veta cautiously laid a hand on his forearm, immediately catching the Lieutenant’s attention.

“You okay?” she had to ask.

“Sure. I’m fine.”

Veta scowled; his entire body language screamed “I’M LYING AND YOU KNOW IT”. She chose not to be offended about that dumb attempt to fool her.

“Really? Where’s the guy that smooth-talked me into buying him dinner?”

He nearly choked on a snort. “I didn’t…”

“How about we make our pizza to go, and eat it somewhere else?”

“Where?” He looked genuinely baffled, now.

She smirked a little, then got up from her chair.

“There’s a place nearby, we’ve been there before.”

Fred seemed to calculate in his mind their relative position in the city for a moment. He was quick to make the assessment but maybe not so quick to catch the hint. She pointed at the exit with her head.

“Our _secret spot_ isn’t far, if you’re willing to walk with me.” Veta added.

His eyes narrowed. His lips parted, but he didn’t say anything. _Finally_.

So, he didn’t forget. Something warm blossomed in her chest.

The Lieutenant stood up without hesitation. “Yeah, that sounds better. Less noisy.”

She cracked a bigger smile, immediately feeling more at ease. It had started with the left foot, that was all. Twenty minutes later they left the premises carrying two piping hot pizzas and two bottles of lemonade. Together, they walked around the corner and a couple of blocks further into downtown to the near vicinity of the famous _Sugarsweet_ and a certain hotel across the street.

**-o-**

Veta paused before taking her bite; this was just something she needed to _appreciate_.

That man sitting on the floor next to her had _absolutely no right_ to look that good while doing something as simple as eating. And she had seen him eat before, so this shouldn’t be news. No, it wasn’t just the looks or the peaceful expression that took over his hardened features when the flavor reached his brain, or the way Fred’s broad shoulders dropped: it was the uncanny growl of evident pleasure. A sound so primal and unusual that it yanked Veta off her train of thoughts. She stared for a few seconds, taking it all in. Even if there was enough space for both on the bench and she offered, Fred preferred to lay the food on the seat and sit on the floor. She had just shrugged and imitated, sitting at a respectable distance with her back against the bench. They had taken residence on the balcony, peering over a perfect sight of the spaceport’s skyline and the city’s night lights.

She continued to observe, arching her eyebrows. Damn. He really had no idea.

“I take it it’s good.” Veta commented, amused.

Thank goodness it was dark outside and that balcony faced the sea. The only source of light came from the room, directly behind them. There was a cool breeze that helped soothe the fire on her cheeks. For a time, at least.

Fred chewed in silence for a few seconds, seemingly unresponsive.

After that first careful bite, the Spartan attacked the food fast and eager. She smiled wider. It was nearly the same with the Gammas, Olivia had described the experience in her own words as a ‘taste-bud coma’ and Veta couldn’t help to laugh at the occurrence, back then. _Pinno’s_ had over twenty varieties of pizza and craft beers, the young Spartans were determined to try them all and pick a favorite. Also, to get everyone available on board with the project; since the Gammas weren’t legal to drink yet, the food had become their new obsession.

It was so, so strange to be sharing this with him. But she was glad it was Fred, one of the few people she actually liked and trusted.

“You know, it’s the simplest thing in the world.” he commented, at last, after downing his first slice. He popped the bottlecap of the lemonade and took a sip. “Just wheat bread with sauce and cheese. That’s it. There’s absolutely no science to it. But it’s _so good_.”

“Better than the MREs?”

“Billion times better.” his smile was a gift from the heavens.

“Well, it’s not rationed. Go ahead.” she shrugged, and finally bit her slice.

He glanced at her sideways, careful. Veta tried not to think that maybe nobody ever allowed the Spartans to eat as much as they wanted and preferred to focus on her pizza instead of getting angry. She knew how things were, the Gammas were a lot more prone to have slips of classified information than the Spartan II. Of course, Fred fished another piece and devoured it even before she could get to the crust of hers. In relative, comforting silence, they obliterated the first box and then she proceeded to crack the second one open.

The hotel had been renovated since their last visit. The façade was slightly different and the lobby’s furniture seemed new. The receptionist wasn’t the same person either, but this guy also took a good look at them and considered things in their mind, with an evident malice. On top of that, the receptionist dedicated an inconspicuous glare at the boxes Fred was holding, while Veta worked to get them a room. She had cocked her head, annoyed, but made sure to slip some extra credits in there to avoid inconveniences. The room’s interior had switched from a calm cream-colored environment to light and soothing shades of blues and white. The layout, however, was exactly as they both remembered it.

The balcony was a novelty, one that Fred was quick to assess and exploit.

She had to give him credit, the sight was pretty and it was quiet, although she felt the cold. It was barely the beginnings of the spring season, she forgot to take a jacket. Stll, Veta was more than willing to accommodate, considering how content he looked.

“The greasiest thing I’ve ever eaten.”

 _Of course_ he was going to lick his greasy fingers. Veta focused on breaking the second pizza and handed him a paper napkin before temptation got the best of her. Watching him eat already did weird things to her, it had to stop at some point.

“I see how that can be a problem if you had to keep your finger steady on a trigger.”

He grabbed the napkin. “Thanks. I hope we’re not pulling any triggers tonight.”

Veta _almost_ choked on her food. Almost.

The Spartan relaxed and propped his back against the bench, sighing, meanwhile he donned his hands until all traces of oil were gone. The balcony was nowhere near big enough for him to stretch his legs properly, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable. Veta moved the pizza box from the bench to the floor, between them, poked him on the shoulder so he would grab another. Fred was more than happy to comply and bit into it, his smile so genuine and honest that would’ve stopped a bullet. Where she managed to eat two full pieces, he was quickly mowing down the rest.

Not that Veta cared, she felt better to know that he was loose enough to do as he pleased.

“You need to get out more. There’s even greasier things.”

“No way.” Fred looked at her, incredulous. “What can be greasier than this?”

“If we happen to have some _overlapping schedules_ again, I’ll take you to the pier.”

“What’s at the pier?”

“You will see.” she eluded, mockingly, then continued eating.

“Did you take the Gammas there already?”

Veta spoke through a mouthful of pizza: “No comment.”

“You did.”

“That’s classified.”

“Veta, come on.” He frowned, amused. “This is _absolutely_ unnecessary.”

She burst out laughing, dropping the half-eaten slice of pizza back in the box.

She chuckled a little more, locking eyes with him. Fred was shaking his head, chewing with a smile that tried hard not to be as wide as his face. It felt good. Oh, it felt so good. Again, after the moment had passed they didn’t say a word for a while and focused on the food, but Veta was quite aware of the side glances she was getting. Curiosity was eating him inside. Oh, she realized that, just like with the Gammas, she had unlocked a door inside him and it was just a turn away from bursting open.

_Would that be so bad?_

He was an adult man and there was a lot more to life than just serve.

His life was his own and he should be able to do whatever he wanted with it.

She was pondering about this when a gush of wind blew from the sea, icy cold. Veta winced and shivered; she pulled her legs up, curling up on her side. Fred evidently didn’t miss the way she rubbed one of her arms; he chewed down what was left of his pizza, put the bottle down and proceeded to undo the zipper of his hooded jacket.

“You’re cold.” he commented, crossing his legs to sit straight. “Here, let me…”

“I’m fine, you don’t have to…”

He was having none of it, evidently.

“Nonsense.” Fred began to pull the garment off his shoulders. John had been right, as usual: taking the jacket along was a good idea. “You’re shivering, I don’t need it.”

“Wait. Just… wait, Fred. Don’t take it off.”

He stopped, halfway pulling his arm off the sleeve, and looked at her. Veta was now standing on her knees, leaning against the bench. Staring at him. Another violent breeze caught her short dark hair and ruffled it.

The Spartan didn’t find words. Neither did she.

_Leap of faith. Leap of faith, come on._

It wouldn’t be the first time she attempted this, either.

“Keep it on.” Veta said, her voice sounded weaker than intended. “Trust me.”

Before he could say anything else, she pushed the half-empty pizza box out of her way and approached. Fred sensed something, there was an electricity in the air, connecting them. His skin prickled and warmed up, blood started rushing everywhere. Hyper-aware of her presence. Her attitude had changed so quickly and drastically; a moment ago they were just laughing and now she looked at him like…

He dropped back against the bench when the realization finally hit him.

Without breaking eye contact, Veta pulled the cap off Fred’s head and tossed it aside, then straddled his lap in a careful and controlled move, running her hands softly across his shoulders. She wrapped those slim, cold fingers around his neck, grazing his jaw and the short hairs at the back of his head. Fred gasped slowly, caught in the spell of her amber stare. He didn’t want to do any other thing but to look into her eyes and feel her hands, her weight, her scent.

_So close. His body was rioting, she was so close…_

His own hands went instinctively to the woman’s waist, seizing her. Giving her courage.

No, it wasn’t the first time something like this happened; _but_ _this time they were confident_.

Finally conquering her conflicted feelings, Veta sank down on his lap until her weight rested against the Spartan’s chest and their lips found each other. He was so warm. Irradiated heat like a goddamn furnace. Firm and safe, comfortable. She melted in his hold, the goosebumps fleeting her skin the more those huge hands flattened the wrinkles of the sweater on her back, pulling her even closer. The kiss, the deepest point of their connection, wasn’t as sloppy and unpracticed as others they shared: they had come a bit of a way and knew better what they wanted. They were eager to take as much as the other was willing to give.

Feeling almost ridiculously small in his hold, Veta reveled in the warmth that soaked through her clothes and instinctively ground her hips, ripping a low, untamed growl from the Spartan’s throat. He huffed, holding the back of her head, enjoying the softness of her lips that certainly knew what they were doing better than his. But it was good, it felt so damn good. It made him lightheaded, the slick graze of her tongue only drove him wilder. Veta threw her arms around his neck and Fred repositioned his hands lower on her back, sliding down her thighs to find the back of her knees and pull. The Spartan peeled himself from the bench, sitting upright, carrying the woman along and now holding the vantage point, cradling her rear with both hands. He brushed the handle of the gun concealed under her sweater but forgot about it quickly. There were more important sensations to sink into. Chest to chest, stomach to stomach, tangled in each other and kissing until the need for air forced them to break apart a few millimeters.

Fred still left a few small, affectionate kisses on the corner of her mouth, and licked his lips.

“You taste like cheese.” he purred, amused.

Lots of blood thumping in her ears, and pooling down, down below her belly.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment, Lieutenant?” she chuckled.

“It’s the truth.” Fred sighed, heatedly, then left a series of kisses along her cheek and jaw, up to her ear, and whispered: “I’ve been waiting months for this.”

“Careful.” Veta bit her lip, enjoying the caress. “You sound compromised.”

Physical contact was important, one of the tethers that connected their souls beyond time and space. Not the most important, but undoubtedly one they craved. She understood and believed in Fred’s words, that he’d been counting the days until his return. She had been counting them too.

Fred huffed a brief laugh.

“What are you going to do about it? Arrest me?”

 _Many things._ Veta knew she could do so many, many things.

“Perhaps it’s time for that court martial they owe you. Or I could apply justice _myself_.”

She ducked the upcoming kiss and went straight for the neck, knowing pretty well that he had a soft spot there, somewhere. Bingo. Where the curve where his jaw met his neck and right under his ear. Fred tensed when she clamped her mouth to the area, exhaled a strangled noise (halfway between a moan and a protest, maybe) when she applied her tongue and gently captured the skin between her teeth. His fingers closed tighter on her ass, maybe to keep her in place or to prevent further wandering. Veta was careful, minding that she couldn’t leave any notorious hickeys or it would rise unwanted questions and probably get Fred in trouble. There was a shroud of shadows around the S-II and S-III, a long rulebook with lots and lots of black ink. She didn’t want a minor slip to be the end of these escapades, if there would be any more in the future.

She sure hoped so. Her blood was running hotter, her breath harder and faster.

“I sorta like your concept of… justice.” Fred gasped, his voice not nearly as steady as before.

A strange pride fueled Veta’s motivation.

He was so big and strong, nearly invincible, cunning and resourceful, and yet…

She never thought that such a thing would make her feel like this, again. With the years, Veta had come to accept that she would never experience life the same way other people did, and she was okay with that. She had taken her vengeance. She had learned to live with her fears, to use that horrible energy and channel it into good things.

Then along came the UNSC to mess around her crime scene. _And this guy_.

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, filling her lungs with the scent of standard issue soap and man. It was so good, things burned inside her. She was melting into a puddle. Veta sat back on his lap, the change of angles favored Fred when he decided it was his turn to do the kissing. He captured her mouth again, she barely made it to produce a muffled mewl when she noticed a hard pressure against her crotch. Veta pulled back a little, feeling…

_Feeling a significant lump that wasn’t there before._

Her euphoria suddenly switched to a mild form of panic. She tried to continue.

But the kisses felt wrong, now. A limit existed, it was a thin veil that she didn’t dare to cross. _Not yet, at least_. Her darkness kept a thread linked to the past and she was at the end of the leash. This time, when Fred unconsciously rocked his hips under her, pressing her meager weight down against that demanding bulge. A connection snapped in her mind and Veta pulled back in a haste, completely. She planted both hands on the Spartan’s chest to keep him at bay.

Veta didn’t realize her breath was so uneven until she found his eyes, wide open and careful.

White noise filled her ears, she could only hear her own heart beating out of control.

Fred’s lips moved, she read them: “Veta?”

“I…”

She curled her fingers, grabbing handfuls of his black shirt.

But she was frozen in place, overly aware of that bulge she was sitting onto. Well, what was she expecting? Did she really think he wouldn’t be aroused if they started kissing shamelessly in the half-dark, alone and away from everyone? It was evident he desired her, as much as she felt desire for him; was she hoping he wouldn’t get hard and all fired up just out of courtesy or what? No. It was so unfair. She shouldn’t have led him on knowing how it was going to end.

She couldn’t go on.

No. No, she couldn’t. If she complied, she would only hate it.

_Hate herself. Hate the feel of his hands on her bare body._

She didn’t want to hate Fred, or his kisses, or his touch. He made her happy, she was at ease when he was around. Veta tried to push away from him, gasping for air. Fred gently grabbed her by the elbows, careful, retaining her in place but with a grip loose enough for her to slip away if she so wanted it. He was looking right into her eyes, confused, expectant.

“Veta.” the intonation was different this time. Still gentle, but firm.

She could hear him now, loud and clear. The white noise was fading.

“I can’t.” she said, abruptly, forcing her fingers to relax and let go of his shirt.

The memory of Olivia’s voice helped her collect herself and breathe.

 _In through the nose, out through the mouth_. In, out. In, out. The fog of desperation began to clear. Fred’s eyes were the beacon, so clear, intense. She kept looking at him. Realizing slowly what they had done. What she was doing to him.

_Jesus Christ, those eyes._

She felt so bad for leaving him hanging like that. He clearly wanted more, and she just...

Veta wished so bad that she could will her hands to move and at least relieve him, in some capacity. She knew how, it would be easy. She could at least have the courtesy and demonstrate him that she was heading there, getting to the same page.

But then again, and as it was usual, Fred surprised her:

"I can take care of it later." he offered, approaching ever so slow and patient, gently nuzzling her cheek with his nose. Instinct pulled him towards her, to give comfort even if he didn’t really know what she needed. "It's alright, I'm not expecting anything."

Well, now, that made it even worse. She didn't want anyone's pity.

“You said you’ve been waiting months for this.” Veta replied, bitterly.

Fred frowned. She didn’t meet his eyes, her gaze was shaded by those long eyelashes.

She wasn’t looking at him and it distressed him even more.

“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t want to come here to take advantage of you.” The words came to his mouth automatically, recalling something she told him once. His face was on fire now, Fred forced down a gulp. “I wanted to see you.”

Was he aroused, beyond anything he’d ever experienced before in his life? Yeah. Did he feel like he could go all the way, if offered? Absolutely. But no amount of satisfaction would ever overcome the fact that he had done something wrong, and Veta was scared. He knew, he could do the math and understand. Fred needed her to look up, she had to look at his face again, _please_. His thumb grazed her cheek softly, two or three times until Veta tilted her chin up.

She seemed angry, but not at him. That was good. Her hands were still flat on his chest.

Fred dared to push his luck a little bit.

“I wanted this.” He murmured, closing his arms around her small frame again.

To his relief, Veta gave in and again leaned against him without further resistance.

She closed her eyes tight, trying to clear her mind completely. Hiding her face under his chin, slipping her arms around his torso. Fred knew the truth. She didn’t want to be treated as damaged goods, she could take that shit from anyone but not from him, or the Gammas. The kids didn’t know her history yet, which was a relief. And yet it didn't seem like Fred were acting out of pity, but the opposite. She sighed and reveled for a moment too long on the sound of his voice, low like a purr, searing through her flesh and sending those delicious little shivers down her spine. It soothed her nerves and chastised her fears.

“This, right now, is more than I could ever imagine, Veta. So much more.”

He could be reading a code book out loud and she would listen to him all day.

Veta tucked her nose right below Fred’s jaw and let the calm wash over her for a few minutes as the dread evacuated her body. Warmth returned slowly and only then she realized that he had pulled the flaps of his jacket above her along with his arms, making an effective cocoon.

Little by little, her pulse steadied. Her breath normalized.

It also helped that he probably had panicked so bad that his arousal just vanished. There was no more demanding pressure against her crotch. She wanted to say she was sorry but knew that Fred wouldn’t want any apologies. Instead, he held her _as if he were the one apologizing_.

Thinking about it would only make things sour, she knew it.

Veta relaxed completely as a long, final sigh escaped her lips.

“Sorry the pizza got cold.” she murmured, a moment later.

“It’s okay. I heard pizza is _even better_ when it’s cold.” Fred shrugged a little.

Veta smiled against his skin, feeling the strong pulse of an artery on her cheek.

**-o-**

She woke up with a mild gasp, at first unable to identify the bed she was lying onto.

Veta blinked a few times in the dim lights of the room and remembered. She noticed she was lying on her side, wearing only her underwear and sports bra and holding a soft pillow between her arms. And again, she remembered. Yes, right. They went downtown for pizza but escaped to the hotel. They had a great time together. _They had a great time, full stop_. She refused to bring back the bad things.

A memory of a sincere hug and soft laughter made her fears go away, again.

Her eyes acclimated to the scarce light and she recognized the shape of another massive body resting next to her, perhaps half an arm away. Fred. Just like her, he was sleeping in his briefs. Lying face down at the other end of the bed, arms tangled around one of the big pillows, his face towards her. His feet dangled off the edge of the bed, stretched as he was.

His breath was so even and calm. His face, relaxed and free of worries.

She smirked a little, without a reason.

The Lieutenant was even more handsome when he slept. Should be illegal.

Veta pushed with her elbow to sit on the bed, quietly, holding the pillow close to her chest. If this Spartan was as much as a light sleeper as her Gammas, then she had to thread very carefully to avoid waking him up.

 _He remembered_. She had fallen asleep first, for sure, but he didn’t turn off the lights.

Lights that, although dimmed, casted shadows across his back over the relaxed muscles that rippled under his skin and dissimulating his scars. She let her eyes wander from the powerful shoulders down his spine and the depression at the small of his back, to the hem of his briefs and the curve of his backside, those strong thighs and calves. Veta swallowed hard, clutching the pillow tighter; her body ached with a need she didn’t know how to soothe.

Again, when was the last time she stopped to appreciate male beauty without feeling her gut clench with discomfort or the contents of her stomach wanting to come out?

Her eyes trailed back and focused a moment too long on the black briefs. Well, damn. He had a great ass. But she had noticed that before, hadn’t she? It wasn’t the first time she laid eyes on that rear, come on.

_She was almost tempted to stretch her hand and give it a squeeze…_

Maybe some other time. She didn’t want to wake up Fred.

How was she going to explain that she’d been squeezing his ass because _she liked it_?

Veta slipped off the bed and headed in silence to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She put the pillow on the toilet lid and washed her face on the sink, pulling her hair back with her wet hands, and then looked at her reflection on the mirror. Droplets of water dripped down her chin, lazily, as the minutes went by. Her dark chocolate hair curled slightly under her ears, there were shadows under her eyes. Her gaze darted quickly to the scars of the skin grafts, on her shoulder and arm. It didn’t look too bad, but the color of the skin wasn’t perfectly matched to hers, and it would never be. Not that she cared, it was just a detail that made it harder to forget that she almost died working for the UNSC.

Veta leaned towards the mirror, propping her weight against the sink with both hands.

She looked deep into her own hazel eyes through the reflection, wondering. Thinking.

And finally, she dropped her head, accepting the defeat.

She was fucking in love with that man. She was in love with the Spartan, Fred 104.

No other truth, ever, felt as sweet or warm in her chest.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next; a sparring match that gets a little out of hand. Fred learns a few things about himself and Veta loses some more restraints. They are definitely getting closer and closer. I’ll try to get it done as soon as I can, I’m very busy and with little time available. Follow or Subscribe if you want to be notified of updates!


	5. AWAKENINGS (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred does some research. Veta experiences something new.   
> This time they might be heading down the right path, together, for good.  
> WARNING: It gets a bit spicy. Fred’s research comes from the Wikipedia, I’m not an expert. Again: grammar and ortography not checked, I finished it a few minutes ago. Sorry!

**AWAKENINGS (part 1)**

Someone had left a pad unattended on a table, at the mess hall.

The Lieutenant, every bit the boy scout he was raised to be, picked it up and decided to deliver it to the lost and found office. He figured it would be easier if the tracking placed the object at the L&F instead of in someone else’s quarters. Less of a hassle.

It was on his way to the gymnasium facilities anyway, he could make the drop.

But on the way there, things happened.

Fred eyed the pad in his hand and a very conflicting idea popped into his thoughts.

It was a logistics pad, by the colors of the casing. It wasn’t locked. It was monitored by the Base’s AI but this model didn’t read or catalog fingerprints like others issued for more important endeavors. If he deleted the search history, the user would be none the wiser (not the AI, but it wouldn’t be able to identify who did the searches). Fred took a quick detour and headed to the floor’s general bathroom, knowing well exactly how late he could arrive to his training session of the day without raising suspicions.

Just a quick browsing. He wanted to clear some doubts.

For the past ten days after their pizza getaway, Fred had grown concerned about topics that, in other circumstances, he would’ve dismissed immediately. It wasn’t knowledge relevant to the fulfillment of his duty or to his personal growth as a Spartan. This had a lot more to do with his awareness of Lopis and how to handle this thing they were getting into, a situation as complex and challenging for both as approaching a target without a single lead or a plan. Even then there was the option to charge and improvise, but he figured that whatever was meant to happen between the two of them, he couldn’t just improvise. Much less considering her life experiences and the visceral reaction Veta had to the one time he tried, unconsciously, to push forward.

No, he couldn’t just go blind into this.

The challenge was exciting and Fred was considering, for the first time in forever, to follow a personal desire outside the boundaries of his team. It was a bit of a scary perspective.

 _He knew what sex was._ Of course he did. Their education was thorough, not overly specific but thorough. Not that the knowledge had been of much use for anybody; most of his siblings all across the Spartan II company had little to no interest in sex or in pursuing romantic relationships (that he knew of). Fred himself had experienced more than a few uncalled-for instances of sexual arousal through his life but he knew how to deal with them (thus why he offered Veta to ‘take care of it later’ when he sensed the rejection to his sloppy advances); and was aware that Kelly and Linda hardly ever menstruated, even less now in their late forties. They shared information about it as if it was the day’s weather chart, they considered it was important to report in case it could affect their performance on a mission. It never did.

But little to no interest didn’t mean that it was completely gone. Fred could only speak for himself in this case.

He knew what sex was in the sense of _what_ goes _where,_ how it’s performed and what could happen nine months later if he wasn’t careful with a female partner. Contraceptive shots were in their medical schedule (once a year) and his dose had been placed right before making the jump to the Ark, along with the mandatory pre-mission check-up. Fred wasn’t worried about that. His concerns were more along the line that it seemed to be _a lot more to sex_ than just inserting body parts into other body parts, and that it made a difference on the quality of the act. The ODSTs were loudmouths, they tended to discuss their prowess openly no matter who could be listening (sometimes _because_ of who was listening); Fred had years of hearsays to come back to.

Not that the Spartan had been listening on purpose, it just couldn’t be helped.

And he had a creative imagination, to say the least.

Granted. In his line of work, he didn’t always have the time to fantasize about anything (more like, fantasizing wasn’t a thing he did anyway), but lately he’d been increasingly entertaining an idea or two. Fred didn’t just want to exercise the insertion of body parts into Lopis’ own body parts, no; mechanics were just a minor piece of the puzzle. If he wanted to be the leading party and be capable of containing Lopis in the event that she experienced another adverse reaction, he needed to be prepared. Information was the key element in the planning of any kind of mission, even one as delicate as this.

So the Lieutenant sneaked into the bathrooms, picked a stall and closed the door.

He had to hunch down a little, so his head wouldn’t pop above the cubicle’s walls. He waited for a long moment, alert. It seemed that nobody had followed him. Good. Leaning back against the stall’s door, he tapped the pad’s screen to life and his index finger hesitated hovering over the digital keyboard. Seconds flew by, ticking like the heartbeat in his ears.

_What was he going to look up, exactly?_

Fred paused, considering. A little bit of heat rose to his cheeks. He didn’t feel dumb about what he was about to do, it was never a bad idea to research what one didn’t know.

But where to begin?

He should probably start with reviewing the basics, it wouldn’t hurt. _Right?_ So, he opened a Waypoint search tab and typed a single word: _sex_. Upon seeing that the results matched nothing related to what he was expecting to find (it returned the location of shops in town, fiction books and entertainment dramas) he scrapped that search and instead typed _sexual relationships_. This also produced a highly inaccurate list of results, some of them he couldn’t even look at because of the explicit nature of the images that popped up. Was he being too vague (or overly naïve) in his inputs? Perhaps.

Fred tried a blunt angle, this time he typed _sexual intercourse_.

Bingo. The search finally returned a multitude of articles that looked more academic. Most of the articles were long, his time was rather limited. Priorities, priorities. Fred picked the one with a picture of two people lying on a bed in a certain state of undress (they seemed happy) and read it as fast as he could, storing the information for later analysis.

The more he read, however, the more his eyes widened.

It stung to realize that things were a lot less complicated when all they did was to spend time sitting next to one another exchanging snarky comments.

Words like foreplay, stimulation, fingering, lubrication, penetration, ejaculation, gratification, fertilization, hormones, and concepts like erogenous zones, oral and anal sex, sexual positions, sex toys, pornography, paraphilias, sexual deviations and sexual assault flashed before his eyes, quickly as he processed the contents of the article. It was… a lot to take in. A lot. He was more-or-less familiar with vague meanings, but each concept apparently had many ramifications, each of them more intricate and overwhelming than the previous. So many approaches, techniques and bodily reactions. Five minutes of research wouldn’t do. Of course, the Spartan didn’t really think that five minutes was all that it would take, but he sure wasn’t expecting to find this much amount of information to take into account.

Fred couldn’t help to feel underqualified, in many, many levels.

And yet, he wouldn’t allow this little setback steer him away, no. If anything, the recently acquired knowledge reassured him that it would be worth the preparation; his blood was already running hot and pooling down below.

He felt funny, _funny good_. Maybe it was because of the images attached to the information or because he couldn’t manage to remove his feelings from the words he was absorbing. Bad time for any of that, true, but the involuntary reactions only told him that this was the proper path. In the back of his mind, Fred couldn’t help to think about Lopis, again. Her deep hazel eyes affixed to his, her small hands on his skin, her lips brushing his own. Their breaths mixing. Soft words, even softer sounds that made him shiver slightly. Her scent, soap and the trivial musk of human skin. Some ancient nature told him it was the musk of _a female_.

Humans were but sophisticated, sentient animals anyway and even in the lack of knowledge there was instinct to fill the gaps.

His heartbeat leaped, his jaw clenched. That slender, warm frame caught between his arms, pressed eagerly against his body. Veta was soft but sturdy, every bit the hardened operative that seven years of work for ONI had made of her. The most pronounced of her curves was firm, yet tender enough to dig his fingers into until she squealed under her breath. _And he liked it_. He liked to elicit those reactions from her. The Lieutenant closed his eyes, reveling in the sensations, willing to ignore for a moment the implications of further delays in his schedule.

In the end, he took a deep breath and calmed down. Not without effort.

He made sure to tap out all tabs and delete the search history, but he didn’t exit the stall just yet. Instead, Fred rested his back against the door, looking up to the ceiling.

One phrase stuck, more than any other. It was from the first few paragraphs of the article:

_“These activities involve physical intimacy between individuals and are usually used among humans for physical or emotional pleasure, and can contribute to human bonding.”_

The words echoed in his thoughts. Intimacy. Emotional pleasure. Bonding.

Those sounded like big words Fred didn’t really know how to feel about.

He would need to read a lot more.

**-o-**

Veta pulled down the bottle after taking a sip of fortified water _when she saw him_.

She hadn’t realized that their schedules overlapped (not that way) at the gymnasium, but she should’ve known Fred would show up too. The rest of Blue Team had arrived merely a couple of minutes prior and, after some curt salutations, they had exited through the other door leaving the sparring mats to head towards the exercising machines.

Ash and Mark were at it now, the two young men rolling all over the padded floor attempting to out-wrestle the other without falling into dirty tricks. Veta had been clear: no cheating. It was proving difficult to topple the other when both were exceptional fighters. By the moment Fred stepped into the grounds, Mark had managed to lock Ash in a choke-hold and they were lying down, Mark with his back to the mats and holding his teammate also on his back but propped on his own chest, and had locked both legs around Ash’s waist. Ash was kicking and growling and swaying side to side, with a hand caught under Mark’s arm to prevent asphyxia.

“Whatever’s poking my back, it better be your belt!” snarled Ash, his voice sounded strained.

“You’re not that pretty!” Mark chuckled.

Olivia was quick to observe: “He’s not wearing any belt.”

“You son of a-!”

Olivia watched from outside the padded area, smirking. Veta shook her head, amused.

That’s when Fred noticed them and, instead of doing just like his siblings and heading to the machines, he broke the line and walked towards the mats.

Olivia made the attempt to stand sharp and salute, but the Lieutenant quickly shut her down with a smile and a sign of his hand, then dropped a hooded jacket on the bench behind the girl. The young Spartan relaxed with a genuine smile. Veta craned her neck all the way up to meet Fred’s eyes, she nodded her greeting. He was standing right next to her. She appreciated maybe a moment too long how well that black compression shirt latched to every shape of the Spartan’s torso and arms, also the tight fit of the shorts. He was barefoot, just like them.

She took a deep breath and another sip of fortified water, looking away.

Yeah, they hadn’t seen each other in ten days but he had the same effect on her.

_She was still in love. Go figure._

The other two continued to struggle until Ash managed to grab one of Mark’s feet and pulled up, twisting the ankle. Mark roared, his arm loosened immediately only for Ash to push himself to roll back over his attacker and drag him into a choke-hold of his own, that quickly changed the tides of the fight. They broke apart and lunged at each other instantly, moving with lightning-fast reflexes; in a couple of seconds the situation had reverted several times to end again with the two young Spartans tangled in a very ungraceful (and sweaty) but dangerous assortment of limbs.

It was like watching two rabid Gao lemuroids fighting over a piece of meat.

For Veta, it was mesmerizing. But apparently, it wasn’t that impressive:

“Okay, stop. Stop, both of you.”

Fred’s voice surprised everybody. Veta snapped to look at him.

Ash and Mark popped their heads up, concerned.

“What’s wrong, sir?” Ash was the one to ask.

“You call that wrestling?” he barked, frowning a little. “You’re not even trying.”

The boys gave each other sideways glances, perplexed. Veta scowled; considering the swell under Ash’s right eye and the trickle of blood down Mark’s chin, it seemed to her that they were serious about the whole practice. The Gammas never chose the easy or lazy path, and pain didn’t scare them after all.

Ash let go and Mark followed suit, they gracefully jumped to their feet in a maneuver so fast and smooth that Veta couldn’t even dream of achieving it. They were breathing a little hard, Ash wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm.

“Perhaps you’re willing to demonstrate, sir?” Mark said, with evident irritation.

“Perhaps I will. But the two of you should sit down and watch, you might learn something.” Fred said, arching his scarred eyebrow. “Livi, do you volunteer?”

The girl shrugged. “Do I have a choice?”

“I volunteer. You’re not going to come here and diss my kids.”

All Spartans accounted for turned to stare at Veta, some of them hiding their surprise better than others. She, on the other hand, stared back with both hands on her hips.

Fred blinked, tilting his head down:

“With all due respect, Lopis, I…”

“Oh, spare me the speech, Fred. I can take you.”

He didn’t doubt it, but his plans weren’t apt for non-augmented people. “I figure, but this…”

“Careful. You don’t want to offend me, Spartan.”

Fred opened his mouth and closed it immediately, let out a heavy sigh. Veta put the bottle of water on the bench next to the Lieutenant’s jacket and stepped onto the mats; she gave the boys a sharp sign with her thumb to make haste and get off the sparring space. Sporting tiny smirks on their faces, both Ash and Mark ducked their heads and trotted out, to sit beside Olivia and pick their respective canteens.

This was going to be fun, no matter what happened.

Olivia crossed her arms, observing. She didn’t really know who she should be rooting for.

Ever since she got into the Gao’s Ministry of Protection as a police officer and further down, a homicide investigator, Veta was quite eager to learn new ways to defend herself. She couldn’t let anyone hurt her again. She was painfully aware of her short stature and meager weight, of the fact that she didn’t have a lot of body strength, but she compensated it with quick thinking, a big gun and an array of techniques designed to inflict the maximum pain with the minimum effort. Their ONI instructors with Beta-5 Division had taken quick notice of this and provided her with even more tactics and further training. She had toppled men as big as Fred multiple times and the Spartan was aware of it.

Lopis was confident that she could put up a decent fight against a Spartan II; perhaps not win, alright, but she could teach him a thing or two. She was acquainted with some of Fred’s profile (the parts that weren’t blacked out) and knew that he had a predilection for fists and knives. He was rather amazing with both, which was quite scary, but if she allowed herself to be scared this wouldn’t be a lesson for anybody.

Hyper-lethal vectors or not.

“So? Are we doing this or what?” Veta demanded, standing dead center of the blue mats.

Fred looked at the Gammas once more. They shrugged, grinning with mischief.

“Alright, but this isn’t what I had in mind.”

“You can try whatever you had in mind with me, Fred. Don’t underestimate me.”

Now it was his turn to smirk. And try to shove _other thoughts_ away.

“I’d never dare, don’t worry.”

Fred stepped in and moved in a wide arc around her, studying the tiny woman that followed him with her pretty hazel eyes. Well, now he didn’t know if he wanted to throw a punch or try to kiss her. He figured she would fight against both.

She was slender, most of her bulk bone and muscle by now. The female training uniform was a fitting black sleeveless turtleneck and shorts, which left very little to his imagination when he considered the curve of her waist and that nearly flat chest, or the well-formed rear that kept calling his attention. Strong thighs, quick hands. Fred couldn’t stop staring (it seemed like he was evaluating her, but not really, _he was admiring her_ ), so the Spartan tried to avert his eyes towards the scarring on her arm and leg, and the different pigmentation of the skin that had been patched over the plasma burns. He had noticed it the other day after their pizza affair, but the dim lighting inside their room didn’t do her any justice.

_And now there were words circling his mind._

Words like courtship and mating rituals and _foreplay_. And other stuff. Inappropriate stuff.

No. No, off with that. Lopis had a lot to deal with, he owed her respect.

“Careful, Lieutenant.” Olivia quipped, amused. “She bruises easily.”

“Noted.” he murmured, his voice sounded rough.

Fred shook his head and lunged forward, determined to immobilize the former Inspector.

She couldn’t react fast enough. More like, she didn’t even know what happened: Veta yelped involuntarily when her face hit the mats, trapped under an arm hard as a rock and tangled around her torso. There was another arm beneath her chin, propping her head up. Tightening. He was breathing on the back of her neck. Every single hair on her body stood on end. Every one of her instincts kicked in; her pupils narrowed in an instant reaction of fear and she pushed back with both hands, her back collided against a hard chest. She couldn’t move him. Of course, Fred was three times heavier than her. But she could _make him move_.

Instead of tapping the mat to give up and be released, she tried to hit him on the nose with the back of her head, but failed once, two, three times. It was just a distraction: while Fred was busy avoiding her head, Veta’s fingers crawled across his arm until she found his hand.

Her fingers were small enough to slide under his and grab Fred’s thumb.

And she pulled back. _Hard_.

The Spartan growled, his breath strained in pain. She pulled harder. Hard enough to maybe pop a joint, if she managed to hold the position for a few more seconds. The Gammas stood up from the bench, smiling; Ash cheered shaking his fists in the air.

“GO, MOM! GO, GO, GO!”

Oh, that little brat. Lopis ground her teeth and tried to move her leg to assess an ill-advised but effective heel-kick at Fred’s groin if necessary. But the Spartan released her before she could manage to injure him further, and instead pulled back taking her along for the ride. They rolled together in the opposite direction until she was face down on the mat again, sprawled and pinned under over two-hundred and ninety pounds of muscle.

A shot of terror crawled up her spine, another instinct pulling her back into the past.

Immobilized, defenseless. Trapped at a man’s mercy.

But this time, she knew it was Fred. _She could feel him._ The terror subsided quickly.

“You can punch me if you need to.” he whispered, with confidence. “I’m not gonna cry.”

“You’re funny.” Veta retorted, snarling.

She pushed back with one knee planted on the mat to extract her arm from under her belly.

Next thing Fred knew: those small fingers were digging between his ribs. Painfully.

Damn. The sharp pain elicited an instantaneous reaction, instinctive: the Spartan disengaged and punted the mat, rolling backwards until he was on his feet a couple of meters away from the woman. Lopis wasn’t so fast to get up, but there she stood again, short hair disheveled and chest heaving. She prepared her fists close to her face, assuming a boxing defensive position.

“Alright, I see you mean business.” Fred commented, and raised his fists too.

“I always mean business, Fred. You should know that by now.”

The gleam in her eyes was…

Enticing, to say the least. Or maybe his blood was running hot again, his senses clouded with her smell and proximity to the point which he wasn’t even trying to make a statement or any kind of demonstration; he wanted to grab her. Touch her. Feel her. Pin her down.

_“Some common sexual behaviors that are considered **foreplay** are kissing, sexual touching, removing clothing, oral sex, certain sexual games, and role playing.”_

Well, Fred felt like adding ‘sparring’ to the list, now.

The Spartan swallowed hard. Focus. Focus, dammit. It wasn’t the time to be thinking about such things. Over there by the bench, the Gammas were watching the match with a mixture of smugness and concern, now. Olivia had narrowed her eyes. Ash was gesturing at Mark, imitating the movements and commenting on something; the kids were probably reading him like an open book, he had trained them himself for a while.

Fred was distracted, why trying to disguise it?

His attention had shifted and Veta was quick enough to take the initiative.

He wasn't expecting that she would just lunge forward and grab him. People didn't grab him, they usually tried to shoot at him or hit him from a relative distance and brace themselves for the retaliation, and she just grabbed him. She caught his hand and whirled around, passing under his arm without releasing. The arm followed her. It was like a dance move, more than an attack.

That threw him off his rhythm and then the sudden pain made him stagger and fall.

Again, his thumb was being ripped off its socket and he couldn’t react.

_His instinct wouldn’t allow him to react._

Now Fred was face down on the mat with his left arm twisted up and his fingers twitching in pain. He growled, trying to muffle a moan of pain between clenched teeth. Then Lopis put her foot down on his back, between his shoulder blades.

_And he liked it._

He liked to look up at her and see that little smug smirk on her lips. It poured fire in his veins.

She looked as if she were ready to sweep the floor with him.

“Do you give up, Lieutenant?” she said, tilting her head to the side.

Oh. Oh, fuck, no.

Fred blew air off his lungs in a low growl, upset.

Although he was in pain, it didn’t stop him to uncurl his arm and move faster, grabbing Lopis by the wrist. He pulled her down, using his left foot to make her trip. Veta lost her balance and landed face first on top of him, the Spartan rolled over and flattened her on the mats. Before she could realize, he had captured both of her wrists in one of his big hands and pinned her arms above her head, holding his free forearm across her throat. Veta gasped heavily, her nose a mere inch from his. Her eyes found his blue-green stare and held it. She was breathing hard. Too hard. She tried to use her knee to hit him, for the Spartan it was rather easy to move his thigh a few inches outwards and step on her leg, to stop her.

Her cheeks were flushing…

He became overly aware of every single contour of her lithe body pressed against his.

_“Psychologically, foreplay **lowers inhibitions** and increases emotional intimacy between partners. Physically, it stimulates the process that produces sexual arousal.”_

He realized he had been this close to her only a handful of times before.

Fred swallowed hard again, his head was spinning. It couldn’t be. Fighting never turned him on before, what the heck? But her pupils were dilated, her lips slightly parted. He read something in the depth of her eyes. It could be fear or it could be something else.

The Gammas were suspiciously silent.

Or maybe… maybe he was too deep into the haze of arousal and couldn’t hear them because his brain refused to acknowledge anything beyond Veta’s doe eyes, her small body lying helpless under his weight. So accessible. At his complete mercy.

That thought shot a bolt of excitement down his stomach and below.

“If you don’t get off me this instant,” Veta warned him. “I’m going to _lick you_.”

A little smile pulled the corner of his mouth: “What?”

She didn’t repeat herself. Fred was still processing the threat when the woman stretched her neck to apply her tongue across his mouth and cheek, hastily. The Spartan did react to the sudden invasion of such a personal space and the wet, unexpected contact; his first reflex was to retreat and reassess. Fred immediately rolled off her, rubbing his face with his forearm. He remained crouching on the mat, a few meters away. Veta rolled quickly to her feet, her posture and attitude were a lot more confident now.

“I told you I was going to lick you.”

“That’s not a sanctioned combat mechanic.” Fred accused, snarling.

“It’s expected to use your brains to find the most effective way to win, isn’t it?”

“Okay.” the Spartan stood up and rolled his shoulders. “One more chance.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you giving up, already?”

“One more chance to bring me down. If you manage, you win. No rematch, you just win.”

Veta remained silent, considering her options.

Fred glanced briefly at the young Spartan III. They were now sitting on the bench, watching the development of the events hunched forward with their elbows propped on their thighs. Silent. Expectant. Either they were putting up a show for the youngsters or something else was going on. Fred tried to cool off and think straight. _Cool off, cool off, come on_. Maybe it was too evident that he was enjoying himself too much with this.

Cold shower to go, for sure.

“Alright.” Veta agreed, raising her fists again. “Fifteen minutes tops?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“What do I get if I win? And what do you get if you win?”

“… we can discuss that later.”

Veta hesitated again. Did she want to get into that sort of trap?

Memories of the last time they were together flooded her senses. Her skin prickled in the best of ways, the same way it prickled when Fred pinned her on her back and held her arms above her head, not ten minutes before. Her heart was pounding. The clock was ticking. A roaring flame in her stomach pushed her over the edge; Veta nodded, taking the bet for what it was worth.

“You’re on.” she said, defiant.

Fred matched her defensive posture bringing his big fists close to his face. They circled each other, again, holding the other’s stare until there was nothing else but the two of them.

And that fire burning inside.

**-o-**

Needless to say, Veta didn’t manage to win.

She hit the mats with her back and-or face once, twice, three times. Four, five, six times and then _six more_. By the time the fifteen minutes were fulfilled, she realized that she couldn’t even manage to land a finger on Fred or get within three feet of his personal space. Which meant _he’d been fooling her, before_. This realization made her equal parts furious and determined, but still, she accepted her loss. The Spartan spared a few minutes to have a word with the Gammas while she laid back on the mats, with her arms sprawled to the sides, trying to catch her breath.

The bastard wasn’t even sweating.

Veta licked her lips, unconsciously, her memory rolling back and forth between the images of the recent events and every time she felt his imposing weight on her, his heat irradiating on her skin, his breath on her hair, and that overwhelming presence over her. Although an instinctive response of fear still froze her blood for a few seconds, it was plain daylight, the gymnasium was wide open, the Gammas were right there.

And Fred wasn’t a middle-aged farmer that had taken her off the street on a whim.

Whatever she felt when Fred rendered her defenseless wasn’t fear, no sir. It had shifted into a different kind of emotion, one she embraced after the first three falls. Eagerness. Excitement.

Arousal. _She wanted him to make her fall._

And he wasn’t making this any easier. More than once during their violent dance, his fingers slid above her skin or across the palm of her hand, painlessly, more like a caress than a threat. He feigned to fail to grab her, ran his fingers down her spine or pushed his thigh against her ass. Her pulse quickened each time their eyes met. Fred put all the effort in winning, yes, but he also put all his expertise on reassessing his combat superiority without hurting her. It didn’t hurt her pride that he had fooled her; she shouldn’t have been so smug to begin with.

But it filled her with curiosity and doubt. He had to know what he was doing to her. _He had to._ Maybe he was trying to tell her something. Maybe he was still hung up on the fiasco of the other day, and she understood.

It was hard to be close, knowing that she was in love with him. Resistance was painful.

If Fred felt frustrated, she understood. But what did he want her to do about it?

Veta shivered and rolled to her belly, finally rising to her hands and knees to sit on her heels and collect herself. She didn’t like surprises or being led into traps. Much less traps of this sort, when she didn’t even know how to deal with the emotions.

One thing was certain: he had worked her up big time.

That couldn’t have been just a coincidence.

**-o-**

“You did it on purpose.” she accused him.

Fred turned his head over his shoulder to look at her.

Arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe, Veta’s angry look was a testament of how ready she was to tear him a new one. In a few seconds, the Spartan tucked the remaining padded mats together inside the proper closet and closed the hatch, then turned around to face her. He could read the tension on the thin, tight line of her lips and her hooded amber gaze.

“Did what on purpose?” he replied, calm and composed.

Veta peeled herself off the doorframe and walked into the locker rooms. This would require a bit of finesse and she couldn’t argue with Fred in equal terms if he towered over her with that handsome face of his. She leaped onto the long bench that ran between the small lockers and the equipment storage cabins.

They were more-or-less at a similar height now.

“What’s gotten into you, today?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Fred shrugged.

“Fool me once, Fred.” she warned, pushing an accusatory index finger on his chest. “Are you still mad about the other day?”

He blinked. “I’m not…”

“Look, I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I really am.” she was quick to shut him down, it seemed like she had a whole speech planned. “I shouldn’t have provoked you, and I’m sorry. I know this isn’t a game… whatever _this_ is.” Veta added a dramatic layer to her words by gesticulating with her hands, vaguely. “But don’t act like this. I’m not going to do any of that again, if it makes you feel any better.”

She dropped her shoulders, let out a long sigh. She wasn’t looking at him.

It distressed Fred, dearly; he loathed when she crawled into that dark space with her demons and avoided his gaze. He’d been to all sorts of hellish places with Lopis and her Ferrets, but this was the only place he couldn’t go with her.

Since he didn’t know what to say, Fred didn’t utter a word.

After thirty seconds of awkward silence, Veta shook her head and turned her back to him.

“You know? Forget I ever said anything.”

“No.”

Fred hurried to catch her hand, softly, before she could jump off the bench.

She stopped dead on her tracks but didn’t turn to face him.

“You’re right, I’ve not been acting like myself today, and I take full responsibility.” he said. His much larger fingers curled tighter around her small hand, squeezed a little. The woman still didn’t turn. “I’ve been… doing some thinking. I’m trying to figure things out. This isn’t easy for me either, you know that much, Veta, but _I don’t want it to stop_.”

The words were trampling over each other to come out of his mouth.

 _Intimacy. Emotional pleasure. Bonding experiences_. They already shared some sort of bond, didn’t they? He was bonded to his siblings as well, true, but it wasn’t the same. He felt comfort in the bond with his siblings; Veta meant so much more, she meant things his siblings could not provide. Fred frowned, looking down at his hand holding hers. She wasn’t pulling away and he considered it was a good sign.

“I want more, but it won’t be at the expense of your well-being.”

Her shoulders dropped a little more.

What was more intimate _than telling her this_?

What could bring him more pleasure than knowing that _she was safe and content_?

After over half an hour enjoying more physical contact than he ever had with someone out of his team, Fred realized that there were things he wasn’t willing to jeopardize. He wouldn’t make it uncomfortable for Veta, not anymore. He could still sense her resistance, the last barrier to be breached before they could give in to each other fully. If anything, his latest ‘research’ had only made him more insecure about how to proceed.

Fred 104 didn’t want to mess this up.

Veta squeezed back his fingers and turned, pulling him close.

She confronted his eyes. Without a single word, she swallowed hard and stood on her tiptoes, sliding her free hand to the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. Fred caught the cue on point and immediately knew what she wanted.

He only had to tip his head down a bit to meet her lips, pulling her closer to his chest. Veta’s hungry mouth latched to his and soon she had both arms wrapped around his neck, her slender body stretched against his.

He hadn’t cooled completely from their previous sparring match. Heat rose inside, again.

Fred didn’t waste any time; he pulled her off the bench and whirled around, quickly pushing the woman’s back against the hatch of the equipment compartment. She moaned between kisses, their breaths growing hotter. Veta instinctively tangled her legs around the Spartan’s waist, now effectively sticking every inch of hers to him, enjoying the strength that kept her pinned to the wall and the warmth that engulfed her, the hands that groped her thighs and rear, that slid under the fabric of her tight shirt. Her skin broke out in pleasing goosebumps. There was an unexpected ferocity in Fred’s movements that shocked her at first, but she didn’t dislike it. He snuck under her chin to leave a trail of fire across her throat and collarbone, forcing her to throw her head back for better access. The turtleneck didn’t allow him to touch her skin but it felt as hot as the real thing, she didn’t complain. Her eyes almost rolled back.

She clutched to his shoulders, surprised by the demanding push of his tongue on her skin.

Veta accepted the attack, grabbing two handfuls of his shirt and pulling.

She needed him closer. Closer, she wanted to feel him everywhere, _to be one with him_.

Every hair on her body stood on end, the instinctive response to fight or fly. No. Not good.

“Fred…” she whispered, out of control.

It wasn’t the best place to let go, really.

But was she strong enough to stop him? Did she want him to stop?

The answer was clear; _a big part of her didn’t_.

But the other part that was still trying to crawl out of the shadows couldn’t bring herself to continue. She forced her fingers to uncurl and release the fabric of his compression shirt and felt around to find his face. Veta managed to cup both of his cheeks, trying to push him to a halt. There was nothing to be ashamed of. He was aware, he would understand. It was unfair, but she needed him to understand. It still took a few seconds and several more open-mouthed, desperate and sloppy kisses on her jaw and tender neck for Fred to finally stop. He was breathing as hard as her, pushing his forehead against her shoulder.

Veta finally relaxed in his grasp, lowering her head to leave a kiss on Fred’s temple.

She caressed the nape of his neck softly a few minutes, while they recovered.

“Don’t be afraid of me.” his voice came out as a muffled plea.

She pressed her lips to his temple again, closing her eyes for a second or two.

“I’m not afraid of you, Fred.” she replied. “I know _who you are_. But this isn’t about you, do you understand that?”

He chose not to answer. Again, she understood.

They were still learning, both of them. She figured it would be easier one step at a time.

She was completely willing to face her fears if he was the one to face them with her. It took a short while for Fred to confirm that he was in control of his emotions, but as soon as he felt more reassured, he pulled away to look at Veta’s face. His shadow covered her, still pinned against the locker’s hatch, but she wasn’t asking him to let go and this little fact brought him pleasure. The sight of her eyes darkened by a shadow of want made him clench his teeth to endure.

There was no sensation more comfortable than her warmth against his.

She ran her knuckles down his cheek, tracing the curve of his jaw with one finger.

“I got to say,” Veta started, sighing, staring into his eyes. “What you did today, even if I was confused at first… it was interesting.”

“It was hard to resist. I threw the bait and you caught it.”

Fred brushed a few strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear.

Veta couldn’t help to shiver. It wasn’t the bad kind of shiver, though.

She clutched to his shoulders again, pushed her mouth very, very softly onto his.

“I want to figure this out with you, Veta.” he commented, then kissed her cheek with an even softer gesture. The Spartan stopped a moment to rub his nose on her skin, closing his eyes. “I’ll do my best to help you, I promise.”

“I believe you. Just… don’t take it personal if it doesn’t go the way you expect it.”

“I already told you, I’m not expecting anything.”

She chuckled, bringing their foreheads together. Veta closed her eyes, she knew Fred did the same while unconsciously rubbing one of those big hands back and forth along her naked thigh. She didn’t want to let go, it was so nice there with him, like that. Small and safe and warm and close. So close. Closer than anyone had ever been.

But they were both on duty and anyone could come into the lockers looking for them.

“What do you want for your victory?” she whispered. “You won the match, after all.”

Fred snorted, amused. “Take me to the pier.”

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next: Fred understands what makes Veta’s fears kick in and devises a battle plan to help her, but he didn’t think this through very well and although it might be helpful, it could also become a living torture for him. The sweetest torture he ever knew. Next chapter will be sexy and slightly NSFW. If you don’t like these kinds of things, you’re welcome to skip it and wait for another update. Follow/Subscribe if you wish to be notified, it’s for the best!  
> APOLOGIES BEFOREHAND: it might take a long while to update again, I will be very busy during February. But, please, leave your thoughts in the box below! I love your reactions! It helps me plan more adventures to come :3


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